Of a Dog and His Boy
by Promissa Fidel
Summary: "some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about" -Charles Bukowski. Basically this is a series of one-shots about anything MPAS-related. In it, I will be posting personal head cannons, possible AUs, and maybe even a few reader-submitted ideas. Please feel free to comment and submit a few ideas. I can't guarantee I'll use them, but input is always welcome!
1. Daisy

**Greetings and salutations warpers! Welcome to the first entry of the small collection of MPAS one-shots I'm compiling. Basically, this story is just going to be a bin for all my random MPAS ideas. It'll contain personal head canons, random AUs, father-son moments... Pretty much anything I can think of. Don't worry, I'm still writing the final chapter for Peabody's Probable Adoption Process, but this idea just couldn't let me go and I had to write it!**

**This one-shot was inspired by a piece of fan art I saw about Peabody and his mother (a regular dog). I wondered how that relationship would work. What kind of a relationship would they have? Would he tell Sherman about her? That's where this story was born. Hope ya'll like it!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Daisy and the Graysons, Peabody and Sherman still aren't mine...**

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Rain pounded heavily against enormous windows, creating a repetitive din in the otherwise silent penthouse. Sherman sighed quietly as he watched the raindrops fall to the city below, his face pressed up against the glass. He supposed even the weather was scheduled to be in a bad mood today.

The seven year old turned from the window to stare forlornly at a large door at the end of the hallway. Mr. Peabody had been in there for hours. He'd told Sherman not to disturb him and that he had very important work to do. When the boy had asked what kind of work the dog merely replied "just boring grown-up stuff" before closing the door.

Sherman frowned, that was what bothered him the most. Mr. Peabody always told him what he was doing no matter how "boring" or "grown up." Happy that his son expressed interest in his work, Peabody was always eager to share whatever he was researching or inventing with Sherman and willing to teach him anything he didn't understand.

Sherman may not be as smart as his father, but he could tell when something was bothering the beagle. He had noticed how his ears had drooped, how his tail had dragged, and how his smile hadn't quite reached his eyes. The whole day Mr. Peabody had been… off. He hadn't made his usual show of cooking breakfast or asked Sherman if he needed any help with his homework. He hadn't even proposed a trip in the WABAC. In fact, his father had just sort of stared off into space when he thought the seven year-old wasn't paying attention, his green eyes clouded over. Finally he'd just give up the ghost of pretending he was alright and had been in his office since.

Sherman groaned as he flopped down on the couch, his glasses falling askew on his face. He knew Mr. Peabody was super scheduled but this was just ridiculous. It seemed like every year at this time his dad went all… weird for no reason. Well, there had to be a reason, Peabody just wouldn't tell him…

The red-haired boy let out another sigh, biting his lip as he stared at the closed door. He hated when his father shut him out like this. It wasn't fair! Mr. Peabody was always there for him when he was having a bad day, why could he be there for his Dad too! More than anything, Sherman just wished there was something he could do to make Mr. Peabody feel better…

On the other side of the door Mr. Peabody sat slumped at his large desk in the dark office. His back paws dangling listlessly from the leather office chair as he watched raindrops trail against the window. He knew he'd told Sherman he'd be working, and, to be fair, there was a fair amount of unfinished paperwork sitting on the far end of his desk. But that that wasn't the real reason for keeping himself in here and he knew it.

He just didn't… He wasn't ready… He… He... Peabody fought to focus his scrambled thoughts. He just couldn't let Sherman see him like this. Not now…

Pushing himself up, the dog pressed a small spot on the molding of the antique desk opening a hidden compartment. Reaching inside, Peabody pulled out a simple blue dog collar. The faint light from the window reflected across the heart-shaped tag, the name DAISY glinting back at him. Drawing it close to him, Peabody inhaled its smell. His eyes closed as a familiar scent greeted him, threatening to overwhelm him with the memories it brought. He couldn't believe after all these years it still smelled like her.

Peabody placed his spectacles of the desk, scrubbing furiously at the moisture building in his eyes. He sighed in frustration, shame welling deep in his gut. Honestly, this was ridiculous. It had been years since his mother's death, so why was he still so affected? It was just another day. She'd just been… Peabody struggled to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. She'd just been an ordinary dog.

But even as he thought this his mind reeled in protest. She might not have been intelligent, but to him at least, she'd been so much more than ordinary...

"Hello mother," greeted Peabody as he shuffled into the straw covered barn where the dogs were kept. The puppy was clutching a book twice the size of him, trying to balance on his hind paws as he teetered back and forth under its weight.

The large red and white spotted beagle raised her head wearily from her sleeping position in the corner, but didn't acknowledge him further. But, then again, Peabody had not been expecting her to. Carefully placing _Plato__'__s The Republic_ on top his growing collection of tomes, the puppy shook out his sore arms and straightened the crooked, make-shift glasses on his face. "I was just reading Plato's opinion on the perfect society." He turned back to his mother who merely wagged her tail in response, those large brown eyes staring blankly at him.

From a young age, Peabody had quickly come to realize that he was vastly different from both his mother and his litter mates. Despite this, for a while the puppy clung fruitlessly to the notion that if he could only educate his mother she would somehow understand him. For hours he'd tried teaching her the alphabet and the abstract concept of words, reading aloud to her from his books and talking until he was hoarse. But still, Daisy's gaze remained vacant, her attention span vanishing the instant their caretakers rang the dinner bell. Finally, Peabody had come to the inevitable conclusion that his mother just wasn't capable of complex thought. He did wonder if his father possessed his extraordinary cognition but, if there really was another genius beagle running around somewhere, only Daisy would know—and she certainly wasn't telling anyone any time soon.

Still, Peabody continued to hold these one-way conversations with his mother. He wasn't sure how much she actually understood, but at least he had someone to talk to. Daisy may not have been talkative, but she was a wonderful listener.

"It's really a fascinating subject. Plato seeks to question why men behave justly. Is it because they fear punishment or have a sense of inherent morality?" He laid down in the cleanest spot of hay he could find. Staring around the dimly lit stall, he was surprised at just how empty it seemed now that there was only him and his mother. The wooden walls used to reverberate with the barks and yips of roughhousing beagle puppies, but all of his litter mates" had since been adopted.

It was strange really. In his first weeks of life this stall had been his whole world. Now it felt so small and confining…

"In his writing Plato wants to define justice, and to define it in such a way as to show that justice is worthwhile in and of itself. He meets these two challenges with a single solution: a definition of justice that appeals to human psychology, rather than to perceived behavior." He continued lightly. Daisy let out a loud yawn, her tongue hanging lazily out of her mouth. "You get the idea anyway…"

Peabody laid down on his back to stare at the ceiling, his tiny paws folded in front of him as he contemplated out loud.

"I'm intrigued by his idea that each group in society must perform its appropriate function, and only that function, and each must be in the right position of power in relation to the others. It's sort of like the interconnecting cogs of that clock I took apart last week. Do you remember that mother?" He asked her rhetorically. Of course she didn't. Daisy couldn't be bothered to remember what she had for breakfast yesterday, let alone what happened last week…

"I suppose it's reassuring to know that we each have a place in society. Although I do wonder what my role in the grand scheme of things will be…"

The puppy stared up at the stars just visible through the barn's small skylight, their light reflected in his green eyes. Did he even have a purpose? Was there even a place for beings like him: Abnormalities who had the gall to exist outside the ridged laws of nature? The different families that came to the shelter certainly didn't seem to think so…

Then the words that had been in his mind the whole time came tumbling out before he could stop them: "I was rejected again mother." He tilted his head to watch her for any response, but none came. Nevertheless, he continued, the need to verbalize his frustrations too compelling to stop.

"The children they… they didn't really like me." His voice became tighter, tears leaking down his cheeks. Making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, the puppy sat up and kicked at the hay with all his might. "I don't understand! All I had to do was just act like a dog! Just bark and fetch and roll over but… I just c-couldn't!" Peabody's voice cracked as he tugged at his ears in frustration. "I… I tried so hard Mother! But I just can't do it. I just can't be…"

He turned back to Daisy. Her head was cocked to the side in bemusement, those brown eyes following his every movement. "…like you…"

Turning away from those sorrowful eyes, Peabody curled into himself on the straw, sobbing as the pain of rejection he'd been hiding all day came spilling forth. Why did he have to be different? The genius cursed his own intelligence, raging at the powers that be for their sick sense of humor when they created him. At that moment, more than anything in the world, he wanted to be normal, to be wanted.

A low, sorrowful whine broke through Peabody's inner turmoil. The puppy nearly jumped in surprise as he felt himself being lifted up by the scruff of his neck.

Daisy grasped Peabody firmly in her jaws as she padded back to her pile of hay. Laying him down beside her, his mother proceeded to lick at his tear stained face and nuzzle her wet nose against his own, trying to calm him the only way she knew how.

Instinctively, Peabody leaned into her touch, brushing up against her warm fur and inhaling the comforting scent. His sobs slowly lessened as she licked at his ears repeatedly, lulling him into a calmer state. At that moment, Peabody was content to curl up against Daisy's warm side, reveling in the rare, undivided attention his mother was giving him.

Daisy may not have been gifted in the realms of abstract concepts or philosophical thought, but she was still a mother and he was still her puppy. The two sat in silence as they snuggled deep into the hay, starlight from the window shining down on them.

"I love you mother," Peabody words were small and tentative, but they echoed through the tiny stall.

As expected, silence was his only response...

"I'm telling you Lloyd, I don't like it! It's just not natural!"

"Aww come off it Ellie-"

"Don't you 'Ellie' me Lloyd Grayson! You told me to just leave it alone, it would be adopted eventually. Well guess what?! Nobody wanted to take it and now we're saddled with it and I want it out of my house!"

A young Peabody fearfully held his breath as he listened to the arguing couple from under the kitchen window, hidden from view in the large wood pile.

Mr. And Mrs. Lloyd and Eleanor Grayson were the caretakers of the shelter and all its residents. This included both Peabody and his mother, much to Mrs. Grayson's chagrin...

"The dog mostly keeps to himself sweetheart. I think it's sorta funny personally," came the drawling lilt of Lloyd Grayson.

"Oh, don't get me started on you!" She raged at her husband, her shrill tone a contrast to his deep base. "I see the way you've been letting it steal those books! The glasses were bad enough Llyod, why are you encouraging it?!"

"Ellie he's harmless-"

"A dog that smart doesn't have any business existing in the first place!" She cut him off. "I've been breeding beagles my whole life and I've never seen anything like it. It's like Daisy got herself caught up in some radioactive experiment or something! I'm telling you, Lloyd, we should've done what was right and drowned the runt in the creek from the start!"

Peabody's small frame quivered with fear as he tried to suppress the whimper in this throat. He'd been trying to sneak onto the farmhouse for another book to read when he'd overheard the couple's argument. Now he was beginning to wish he'd stayed in the barn with his mother.

"Ellie you don't mean-"

"Don't you tell me what I do and don't mean!" Her voice then quieted, turning to a fearful whisper. "I hate the way it looks at me Lloyd, like it understands me, like its human or something. And when it started talking..." The woman gave a shudder. "It's just not natural..."

A loud sigh and the scraping of kitchen chairs could be heard as Lloyd made his way to his wife. "Look Ellie, I know you don't like him, but it wouldn't be right to just off the pup in the river. Besides, Daisy likes him well enough and we did want her to keep one of the pups from her last litter for company."

Eleanor let out a muffled groan in response to her husband's logic. "We didn't know she'd be turning out some creepy science experiment gone wrong! Please Lloyd, there's still time! Maybe we could sent it to one of those science labs-"

But Llyod cut her off. "The pup stays Ellie and that's all there is to it." His previously laid back tone was heavy with authority. "Now I don't know about you but I'm going to bed. We got a shipment of dog chow coming in the morning and I'd like to have my wits about me." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Stop worrying Sweetheart. Way I see it, if God hadn't wanted a mutt that smart on his good earth he wouldn't have put it here in the first place." He left her with a quick goodnight before lumbering up the stairs to their bedroom.

Eleanor grumbled a few chose words under her breath but let him go. "I need a drink" she murmured to herself.

Peabody gave a small sigh of relief at Mr. Grayson's words. But there was still a twinge of fear in his heart. Would Mrs. Grayson really kill him if she got the chance? He hated the resounding "yes" that echoed through his mind. Too scared to get caught by the temperamental woman, the puppy decided against trying to sneak another book. Instead he walked back to the barn, taking care to walk on all fours just in case Mrs. Grayson spotted him. She hated it when he walked on his hind legs.

From the start Mrs. Grayson had never liked him. When he was a newborn she'd found his observations of her unnerving. Then, when he'd said his first word, she'd screamed and run into the farmhouse like her skirt was on fire. At one point she'd even though Peabody was possessed, but luckily her husband had stopped her before she called in the local priest.

Mr. Grayson, on the other hand, chose to have a sense of humor about Peabody's strange existence. True, the man treated him like a side-show freak, but at least he didn't want to drown him. He allowed Peabody to take whatever books he wanted from the man's large collection, thinking it awfully clever that the pup had taught himself to read on the scraps of newspaper outside. He was also the one who gave Peabody the glasses, noting how the pup would squint and hold the books up far too close to his face. The glasses had been an old pair of his, but with a few modifications Peabody had managed to adjust them to suit his needs.

Finally, he'd reached the barn. Quietly as he could, Peabody curled up against his still sleeping mother, trying not to wake her. He stared at the wooden walls as he tried to sleep, his active mind still buzzing with the conversation he'd overheard. He was going to have to be more careful around Mrs. Grayson from now on. Maybe if he just stopped talking. After all, it only seemed to antagonize her. He sighed quietly as his tired eyelids began to droop. If only it wasn't so hard to be a normal dog..With that last thought the beagle soon drifted off into a fitful sleep…

*BANG!*

Peabody lifted his weary head at the noise that reverberated through the barn. He blinked blearily to see the blurry outline of a very drunk looking Mrs. Grayson in the moonlight as she stumbled through the doorway. "Dammit!" She slurred, making her way to the stall.

Then, before he knew what was happening, Peabody found himself lifted into the air, his limbs dangling helplessly.

The woman chucked darkly, the smell of booze heavy on her breath. "If Lloyd don't got the stomach for it, I'll just have to do it myself..." She rambled.

Realizing instantly what was happening, Peabody twisted and squirmed in the woman's vice-like grip, whimpering and hollering for all his might. He was silenced abruptly when her other hand clamped tightly over his snout.

"Shattup!" She glared down at him.

Peabody continued to struggle in vain, twisting his small body to and fro as she marched him out of the barn and into the open air. He hadn't even had time to put on his glasses so the world was a blurry mess of dim color. His jaws fought against her tight grip, searching desperately for freedom so he could call for help.

But it was the dead of night. Who would even hear him?

Even drunk Mrs. Grayson handled him with the firm expertise of an experienced dog breeder. "Not so smart now are ya, you little shit!" She slurred, her gait stumbling but confident as she neared her destination.

The puppy felt a cold surge of terror as the sound of running water met his ears. They'd reached the nearby stream that wrapped around the property.

Desperately, he clamped his sharp little teeth over one of her fingers, causing the woman to swear and draw back her hand in pain. Now that his jaws were free, Peabody yowled at the top of his tiny voice. "HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP! MOTHER HELP-" but a hard slap came across his muzzle.

"I SAID SHUT UP!" shrieked Mrs. Grayson, her eyes unfocused as they rounded on the puppy. "For the love of God, JUST STOP TALKING!"

But Peabody could see her resolve weakening. "PLEASE," he pleaded with her at the top of his voice. He was hyperventilating now, tears running rapidly down both cheeks. "I'LL NEVER TALK AGAIN IF YOU JUST PUT ME DOWN. I'll BE JUST LIKE A REGULAR DOG! I'LL SIT AND I'LL FETCH AND I'LL STAY..." But his voice was cut off as he hand tightened around his windpipe.

The emotional turmoil was obvious on the older woman's face as she held the mutt over the icy water below, trying to avoid his tearful gaze. "Just stop it!" She whispered tightly. "Stop it and hold still-"

Peabody yelped and shuddered violently as he felt the frigid water hit his tail, sending a thrill of horror up his spine. For once his mind was devoid of all but one primal, desperate thought: 'I don't want to die.'

Suddenly, a loud growl sounded behind them and Mrs. Grayson turned in shock before she could hold Peabody under the water. A very angry Daisy was staring her down. The older beagle's jowls were raised as she showed the woman her teeth. Spittle went flying as another growl ripped through her throat.

Peabody stopped struggling momentarily to gape at his mother in surprise. He'd never seen her look so formidable.

Apparently neither had Mrs. Grayson. "SHOO!" She yelled, but there was fear in her eyes.

Daisy stood her ground, body crouched and ready to spring, ears pinned to the back of her head, fur bristling. The beagle barked and snarled furiously, causing Mrs. Grayson to jump back in fright, nearly falling into the water herself.

They stood for what felt like hours in the precarious stand-off, the mother refusing to yield. Mrs. Grayson's eyes darted quickly between the snarling animal and the pup in her grip, her alcohol-slowed mind finally coming to a decision: It wasn't worth it.

"FINE! Take it then if it means so much to you!"

Suddenly, before Peabody understood what was happening, he felt himself being thrown through the air. He landed on the ground with a resounding thump, bouncing slightly before coming to a stop. His whole body shook and his throat ached as he inhaled fresh air.

Daisy was at his side in an instant. Quick as a flash she snatched Peabody firmly in her jaws and ran for the barn, leaving Mr. Grayson to stumble angrily back into the house. It wasn't until they reached the safety of the barn that Daisy released the still trembling Peabody. She poked and prodded at him with her nose, checking for any sign of injury. Normally, Peabody wouldn't like the intrusion into his personal space, but at the moment the puppy as content to remain as close to his mother as possible. His mind was still reeling from the shock of what had almost happened.

Once satisfied that there was little injury to Peabody, Daisy curled around her puppy protectively. Her muscles were still taunt, refusing to relax as she eyed the entrance to the stall. Any moment, the beagle was ready and willing to spring. No one else was going touch her puppy. As the shock wore off and his adrenaline crashed Peabody found he had never felt so grateful for the reassuring warmth of his mother's presence.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night, Daisy unwilling to leave Peabody's side until she was certain the danger had passed.

Even years after the incident, a fully grown Peabody still shuttered at the traumatizing memory.

Never again did Mrs. Grayson try to get rid of him. She'd obviously decided he wasn't worth the trouble of going through Daisy's wrath. The woman had kept her distance and Peabody tried his hardest not to antagonize her. Still, it was a terse relationship at best.

The genius suspected he wouldn't have survived his first year of life without his mother's protection.

He sighed softly, turning the faded blue collar over in his paw. His heart ached painfully he thought about what had happened this same day so many years ago.

All things considered, his mother's passing had been ideal. She had died peacefully in her sleep of heart failure. Still, Peabody had been distraught when he'd woken up to find the cold remains of his mother beside him.

Now fully grown but still young, Peabody cursed himself for not seeing the signs. After all, Daisy had been short of breath for some time now, needing to stop frequently as she played with the shelter's latest litter of puppies. He'd assumed she was just tired out, not even thinking about the more sinister implications until it was too late.

What good was a genius intellect if he couldn't even diagnose a simple case of cardiomyopathy?

Daisy's death held little ceremony at the Grayson Animal Shelter. After making sure she was indeed deceased, the Graysons had packed her body in a simple cardboard box. Peabody barely had time to take the collar from his mother's neck before she was buried four feet in the ground. There had been no tombstone, no grave marker, nothing to indicate that a beagle named Daisy had lived eight years in this place. All that was left of her was a simple strip of cloth and the white, bespectacled beagle clutching it like a lifeline.

As Peabody stared at that unmarked mount of dirt he saw in it a horrible premonition. If he remained here this would be his inevitable fate. Like his mother, the culmination of his total existence would be reduced to nothing more than a pile of bones in the backyard.

It was in that moment that Peabody made his decision to leave the shelter. Now that his mother was gone, there was nothing left for him there. He was determined to make the life his mother had protected so fiercely to mean something.

Peabody had left that night with nothing more than his mother's collar and his own determination. His first stop was Washington D.C. to become the first official canine citizen of the United States.

*CRASH!*

Peabody was forcibly jolted from his nostalgia by the sudden crash that carried through the penthouse. His mind immediately flew to the worst conclusion.

"SHERMAN!" He called in alarm, rushing out of his office and picking up the boy's scent.

He turned the corner and swung open the kitchen door to find a very guilty looking Sherman next to the shattered remains of one of his mixing bowls, glass shards mixing with dripping batter. The kitchen was a complete mess. Flour littered every surface, a small puddle of cooking oil was pooling on the floor, and… Was that egg on the ceiling?

The boy was wide eyed and covered head to toe in flour, but otherwise unharmed. Peabody breathed a sigh of relief before leading the child out of harm's way.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Peabody!" Sherman was rambling. "I was trying to be careful but the bowl was heavier than I thought and it slipped..." He voiced trailed off into a whisper as Peabody held up a paw. The boy looked down at his feet, biting his lower lip "Sorry."

Peabody sighed again as he took in the dejected look on his boy's face. "Sherman," he started, tinting up the child's chin to meet his eyes. "First of all, I'm just glad you're alright." He affectionately wiped a smear of flour off of his cheek. "You gave me quite the scare for a moment." The seven year-old's eyes widened in amazement that his father could be scared of anything.

"Second of all," the dog continued, his tone more stern. "You know that you're supposed to ask my permission before trying to cook! Why did you think now would be an exception?"

Sherman looked back down at the ground, his hands wringing his batter stained shirt. "I'm sorry Mr. Peabody," He apologized again. "I guess I knew you were really sad about something so I thought I could make you feel better." He picked up a small recipe card of the counter and showed it to his father. "These are your favorite right?"

Peabody eyes softened as he stared at the recipe for peanut butter and apple crisp cookies he'd modified for dogs.

Guilt welled up inside him as the genius realized how he'd once again shut his son out to protect his own fragile pride. But, even when he turned him away, Sherman was still thinking of him, still wanting to make him feel better. Peabody forgot sometimes just what it meant to be part of a family. You had to allow others to care about you.

"I just wanted to do something to help" murmured Sherman, his brown eyes shining with sincerity before darting back to the floor. "M'sorry..."

But the child's voice trailed off abruptly as Peabody pulled him in close for an embrace, hugging his boy as tightly as he could. Sherman's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't often his father initiated such displays of affection.

"So... Does this mean I'm not grounded?"

Peabody chuckled into Sherman's shoulder. "I think I can let you off the hook just this once." He pulled away slightly to meet Sherman's eyes. "But don't even think about baking unsupervised again!"

The child gave him a lopsided grin. "Yes Mr. Peabody," he chorused obediently.

"Yes well... Good" Peabody cleared his throat. "Now let's get this place cleaned up. Let me take care of the glass first." But as he turned to find a broom, he was completely unprepared for Sherman's next question.

"What's that in your hand Mr. Peabody?"

Looking down, Peabody noticed he was still clutching his mother's collar. He must've run out of his office so fast that he'd forgotten to put it away.

Peabody was about to tell Sherman that the collar was nothing, but as Sherman gazed at him with such innocent curiosity, the words died in his throat. He stared at the faded blue fabric, the name DAISY glinted off the tag invitingly.

His grip on the collar tightened as did his resolve.

It was time to stop hiding his emotions behind an office door. It was time to stop being too ashamed of his past to share it with his son. After all, just as he'd been his mother's pup, Sherman was his.

Taking a deep breath, Peabody set aside his pride and began; Sherman hanging on his father's every word.

"This, Sherman, belonged to someone very important to me. Her name was Daisy, and she was my mother..."

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**Well, did you love it, hate it, both? Please feel free to read and review! I look forward to your input!**

**Warmest Regards,**

**Katie**


	2. No Dogs Allowed

**This idea was one of the first things I thought about during that first brain storm after seeing the movie. I don't know why it's taken me this long to write it though. Basically I just wanted to explore some of the trouble Peabody goes through as a sentient dog and how it affects his relationship with Sherman. Also, I kinda just wanted to write Sherman at four years old! ;)**

**Anyway, hope you guys like it...**

**Disclaimer: I only own Officer Beakly. The rights to Peabody and Sherman are solely in the hands of Dream Works.**

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"Hurry up Mr. Peabody!"

Heads turned as the exuberant voice rang through the New York streets. A few pedestrians had to do a double take as they saw a rambunctious little boy pulling running along the sidewalk, clutching the paw of a bespectacled dog who was hanging onto his boy for dear life.

"Sherman! Sherman please slow down!" Mr. Peabody ordered, trying hard to temper his son's enthusiasm. He barely managed to grab the Sherman's shoulder in time before the four year old walked into the busy street.

He took a moment to catch his breath as they stopped, rubbing his now sore arm. Due to the boy's last growth spurt Sherman was easily his father's height, making it very hard for Peabody to keep up.

"Aw... But Mr. Peabody we're almost there!" Sherman whined, bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet.

"And we will get there in due time Sherman. Preferably without getting into an accident." He chastised the boy. The dog readjusted his crooked spectacles. "Now what did I tell you about running off before we left the house?"

Sherman had the good grace to look sheepish, wringing his hands in his shirt. "Ta not to..."

"Exactly." He patted the boy's shoulder encouragingly. He looked up to see that the crosswalk light had turned green. "Now come along. The park awaits."

"Alright!" The child cried as he lunged ahead, still clutching tight to Peabody's paw. The dog winced as his arm was wrenched again, but merely sighed and rolled his eyes. Boys would be boys.

Usually during this time of day Peabody would be taking young Sherman on an excursion through time using the WABAC. However, he had to acknowledge that every once in a while Sherman needed to interact with people from his own time period. As precocious a child as Sherman was, Peabody still worried about his social development. Between his father's busy work schedule, side projects, and time expeditions, Sherman didn't have any companions his own age. True he seemed to get along just fine with great figures like Gandhi, George Washington, and Leonardo Da Vinci, but there was something to be said about interacting within one's own peer group.

Besides, Peabody had been meaning to catch up on some reading anyway. It would be nice to just enjoy the park while Sherman played with the other children.

"I'm gonna ride the swings first," Sherman told his father matter-of-factly as he bounded along beside the dog. "An then the slide and the tunnels! Oh Mr. Peabody, d'ya think I'll be able to climb to the top of the monkey bars this time?"

"I suppose anything's possible." Peabody replied, a playful grin of his face. "I can't imagine you'd be _barred_ from the experience…"

Sherman laughed for a moment before shooting his father a bemused look. " I don't get it…"

As they turned the corner, the park soon came into view, giving Sherman another burst of energy as he ran eagerly towards the front gates. "Sherman! Please I'm a genius not a track star!" Peabody called as the energetic boy pulled him along for the ride. Finally, he managed to catch the child and rein him in before they walked through the gates.

Peabody could already hear the playful shrieks of children as they ran all around the playground. Their uncoordinated limbs flailed to and fro as they chased each other on the processed wood chips. Sherman watched them eagerly, practically biting at the bit to join them.

"Now Sherman," Peabody started as he held tight to the fidgeting child's shoulder, "I'll be just over there by the benches alright?" he nodded towards the small sitting area by the outer edge of the playground.

"Uh huh," muttered Sherman distractedly, his eyes fixed on the bright red swing set.

"Sherman!" Peabody repeated sternly, trying to get the child's full attention.

Sherman turned to look at his father, smiling sheepishly. "Yes, Mr. Peabody."

Peabody couldn't help but smile at this endearing behavior. However, just before he could tell Sherman he could go and play a nervous voice came from behind them.

"Um excuse me sir." Peabody turned to see a gangly police office towering over them. The young man couldn't have been more than 23 judging by his pimply face, sparse goatee, and gangly build. He shuffled his feet anxiously and he met Peabody's gaze, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Strange…

"Good afternoon officer… Beakly," Peabody greeted reading the name pinned to the man's chest, one paw as still holding tight to a groaning Sherman. "Is there a problem here?"

"Actually yes," The young man rubbed the back of his long neck. "I'm afraid I going to have to ask you and your…" his eye's darted between the dog and the boy "…child to leave the park."

Peabody's eyes narrowed behind his round spectacles. "Excuse me sir, but on what grounds are you making this request?" He kept his tone civil, but officer Beakly flinched all the same.

"Well, it's just that… uh…" The young man fumbled with his words. Finally he resorted to just pointing to a sign nailed to a nearby lamp post. "ANIMAL CONTROL LEASH LAWS STRICTLY ENFORCED. ALL ANIMALS MUST BE UNDER RESTRAINT."

Peabody took a minute to stare at the officer, an eyebrow raised in sheer disbelief. Honestly, of all the ridiculous notions…

"I see," came his tight lipped response. "If you would please give me a moment officer I think I can resolve this."

Fortunately, being the genius he was, Peabody actually had the foresight to plan for this sort of idiocy. Sighing in disgust, Peabody rooted through the small shoulder bag where he'd been keeping a small snack for Sherman and the paperback he had intended to read.

Thankfully Sherman had stuck close by after Peabody let go of his hand. He stared in fascination at the strange man who was bugging his Dad. "Are you a policeman?" he asked eagerly.

Officer Beakly jumped, looking down at the tiny child in surprise. "Uh… yeah I am."

"Policeman stop criminals right?" Sherman continued, his brown eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Right…" The man answered slowly, not quite knowing what to make of the precocious four year old.

Sherman face scrunched in confusion. "Then how come you're here an' not stopping buglers then?" Then a sudden realization came to his mind. "Are you undercover mister? Are you tracking a burglar in the park?"

"Uh…"

"Sherman, please leave the man be." Peabody admonished lightly, not even bothering to look up from the bag. The boy pouted for a moment, but went back to stand behind his father.

"Ah! Here it is!" Peabody exclaimed, brandishing a small piece of paper with a flourish. It was a court order he had requested years ago around the same time he'd been granted citizenship. He handed Beakly the order. "There you are Officer. I think you'll find everything to be in order," He stated, straightening his bowtie confidently as he spoke. "Now if you don't mind, my son and I would like to-"

"I'm sorry sir," interrupted Bleakly, "But I'm afraid I can't accept this."

Peabody halted in his tracks, his shoulders rising in irritation. Really, he didn't have time for this. "And, pray tell why not sir?" he asked, his arms crossed, his tone more biting.

The police officer's adam's apple trembled anxiously. "It's just… This isn't like any permit I've ever seen before. I don't even know if it's official or not.

"For goodness sake it's signed by an official New York court judge." Peabody argued, his tone escalating. "I don't know how much more official it can get?"

But Bleakly held fearfully to his position. "Look, I'm sorry sir but you need to leave. I don't want to lose my job over this so if you could just..." he motioned his head towards the front gate, his eyes pleading.

But Peabody refused to take this lying down. "This is outrageous!" he exclaimed, his body rigid as his tailed wagged aggressively. Peabody, pointed an accusing paw at Beakly's chest. "I'll have you know that it is my right as a citizen…"

But the words died in his throat when he heard the murmurs and whispers that had suddenly surrounded them. Peabody looked away from the cowering officer to see that all eyes in the park were suddenly on him. A small group of joggers had stopped in their tracks at the commotion. Women on the park benches were shooting him disapproving glances as they gossiped among one another. Small children watch and pointed to him questioningly, their mother's trying hard to keep their child from being rude.

It quickly became apparent to the genius that he was making a scene.

Self-consciously, the beagle backed away from Officer Bleaky, taking the court order from his sweaty hand and placing it back in his bag. "Well then…" he said tightly, "I suppose I'll just be going then." He glared at Bleakly, making the man flinch again. "But, rest assured, I will be talking to your superiors about this." Turning abruptly on his heel, Peabody grasped the hand of an oblivious Sherman. "Let's go Sherman," he ordered calmly, trying hard to keep whatever was left of his dignity intact.

But Sherman would have nothing of it. "What!" he exclaimed. "But Mr. Peabody we jus' got here!" The four year old dragged his feet, pulling hard against the dog. "And I wanted to play on the swings and-"

"Now! Sherman!" The words came out much harsher than he would've liked, but they got the job done. Shocked by his father's tone, Sherman lost all urge to rebel and went limp in Peabody's grip. Mutely, the child allowed the beagle to steer him out of the park, away from the unpleasant stares and whispers.

The two walked through the streets in stormy silence. Peabody was inwardly fuming, furious thoughts racing through his mind at light speed. The nerve of that ill-informed, fatuous excuse for an officer of the law, treating him like some sort of common canine! Why he'd never been so humiliated in all his life! Peabody's jowls rose slightly as the thoughts persisted. The minute he got home he planned to have a very long and involved chat with the New York City police department and give them a piece of his-"

"Mr. Peabody?"

The timid voice broke Peabody abruptly from his toxic thoughts. It was then he noticed Sherman looking at him, his brown eyes confused and hurt. He stopped in his tracks immediately his protective instincts kicking in.

"Did I do something bad?"

The question may as well have been a bullet for how it shot through Peabody's heart. Guilt wracked him to his core as he stared at his son's dejected face.

"No! No, of course not!" Peabody exclaimed, grasping Sherman's arms protectively.

Sherman bit his lip and avoided his father's faze. "It's jus' that… I wasn't listening before an' then you sounded so angry an' we had to leave early…" The child trailed off, but Peabody has heard enough to surmise the four-year olds thought process.

The genius sighed, knocking his glasses askew as he ran a hand down his face. How was he going to explain this?

"Sherman," he began, wiping a tear from the boy's cheek. "What happened back there was in no way your fault. It was just…" He searched for the right word "…a big misunderstanding between me and that police officer." His green eyes met Sherman's brown eyes earnestly. "I was merely angry at the circumstances and I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. I'm very sorry Sherman I-."

But the rest of his words were cut off as the four year old hugged him tightly around the middle. Peabody patted his son's shoulder affectionately, allowing the hug to last a few more minutes before he stepped away. They were in the middle of a public sidewalk after all. "Yes well…" he started "I'm glad we cleared that up. Come along then."

Sherman nodded, reaching out to take his father's hand once more. His face was still a bit splotchy, but the smile was starting to come back to his face. "But I still don't get it Mr. Peabody" he informed the beagle as they walked side by side. "Why did we have to leave the park?"

"Never you mind that Sherman," Peabody waved off his question as nonchalantly as he could. Sherman hardly looked pleased with the dog's response, but Peabody was expecting this.

"Besides…" he playfully leaned in towards his son, a wry grin on his face. "I believe Sherwood Forest of the twelve century is a much more fitting excursion for a young boy than a mere park." He smiled at the realization dawning on the little boy's face. "I believe Mr. Robin of Loxley would love to see his favorite little outlaw wouldn't you?"

"Really Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed, an enormous grin lighting up his face. "No kidding?"

Peabody beamed right back at him "I never 'kid' Sherman."

"Then what're we waitin' for!" the red head exclaimed.

Peabody barely had time to brace himself before Sherman took off, tugging his father down the street and back towards the penthouse. The genius smiled at Sherman's renewed vigor, but storm clouds still hung over the dog's thoughts.

Soon enough, Sherman would be at an age where he wouldn't be so easily distracted by the promise of a trip in the WABAC. Mr. Peabody only hoped that when that moment came, he would have a real answer for his son.

* * *

**Well... Love? Hated? Meh? Whatever your opinion I'm eager to hear it! Also, fee free to submit some story ideas. new material is always appreciated.**

**Warmest Regards,**

**Katie**


	3. The World's Greatest Criminal Mind

**Okay so I know I left you guys on a cliffhanger for What Matters Most, but this AU has been tearing at my consciousness for weeks now.**

**Anyway, this idea started when I saw an interesting bit of AU fan art someone posted. The prompt was ****"what if Peabody was a super villain****" and the idea really intrigued me. Also, if you follow the MPAS fandom on tumblr, you might****'ve seen the Peabody serial killer AU that has been floating around (which is both strange and hilarious).**

**Well, I thought it might be interesting to explore this idea seriously in a one-shot. I was curious as to how far I could push Peabody****'s character while still keeping him and his relationship to Sherman intact. Of course, in this story Peabody is more like a criminal mastermind than a super villain. I****'ve based him heavily off the likes of Professor Moriarty and Lex Luthor. I don****'t know if this is any good, but it was definitely an interesting experiment****…**

**Also, I****'d like to apologize to any of my French-speaking readers for the way I****'ve completely butchered the French language. I was using google translate as a resource and I know how notoriously inaccurate that program can be.**

** So... here it is. *blushes and hides face in hands***

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Peabs and Sherman... **

* * *

Officer Antoine Reyer strode confidently through the expansive galleries of the Louvre. His steps echoed on the marble floors as he passed row upon row of medieval art. It was surreal how quiet the museum could be at night without the many tour groups, visitors, and curators bustling about with their loud racket.

The guard moved past the many displays with ease as they slowly transitioned from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance. Far from a young man, Reyer had been the regional officer of the first floor in the Richelieu wing for twenty years now. It was his job to know the works he guarded like the back of his hand and he took that very seriously. That was why, despite the disarming peace and quiet, Reyer was on full alert tonight, his body tensed and ready for the first sign of trouble.

Recently the museum had been contacted by Interpol with a warning that there could be an attempted robbery. Apparently one of their agents had pieced together some sort of message from a series of personal ads in _Le Nouvel Observateur_ strung out over six weeks. As ridiculous as it sounded, Interpol claimed that this was the signature MO of an infamous art thief they been tracking all over the world.

Dubbed La Fantôme Voleur by the media, the agency apparently knew next to nothing about this thief. Although they had tracked him over the course of at least two decades, he'd never been seen let alone arrested. The fiend was known to slip into Museums completely undetected, and make off with thousands of dollars' worth of art. Of course he didn't just focus on art. Within the last ten years it was suspected that La Fantôme had been the mastermind behind the theft of countless historical artifacts, and numerous bank robberies worldwide.

True to his moniker, he was like a ghost, tripping no alarms, leaving no fingerprints. His crimes were precise, meticulous, and nearly impossible to anticipate. In fact, the only way the world had been able to link the crimes was the notoriously bad puns left at the scene of each crime.

The thief almost seemed to enjoy toying with them more than actually stealing the valuables. In fact, La Fantôme had been known to spontaneously return what he'd stolen, just so he could steal it again a week later. Needless to say, this had thoroughly humiliated museum security systems all around the world.

So far the thief had managed to effectively steal from the Smithsonian, the Acropolis, the Metropolitan, and the Uffizi Gallery, each heist spanning within a month of the other. The Louvre, the crown jewel of French art and culture, would inevitably be his next logical target.

Well, let this "phantom" try and steal from the Louvre. Reyer snorted derisively as he looked out the windows to the Tuileries garden below. All 70,000 square meters of the museum was monitored by a state-of the art security system, and a regular patrol of highly trained guards such as himself. The fool would not be able to so much as reach the front doors without being detected.

Finally reaching the end of his rounds at the gallery of 17th century art, Reyer pulled out the speaker of the two-way radio attached to his hip.

"C'est Reyer. L'aile Richelieu est sécurisé. Avez-vous…"

But he stopped speaking when he realized he couldn't hear any static over the line. He knocked the speaker against the palm of his hand. Strange, he could've sworn he'd checked the batteries only this morning. The man took out his flashlight, illuminating the device to further inspect it. His brow furrowed in confusion. There was nothing wrong with it. It was almost as if…

Eyes widening in shock as the thought hit him, Officer Reyer whirled around, shining his flashlight on the nearest security camera he could find. His heart nearly gave out when he realized that there was no blinking light to signal it was recording. The signal was jammed.

"…oh mon Dieu!" he breathed.

Then, running as fast as he could, Reyer made his way down the gallery, the art work flying past him in a blur. He had to reach the security desk, had to warn the rest of security before-

It was at that moment the noxious smell of chemicals hit him.

Having been well versed in the protocol for a terrorist attack, the guard instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his hat. He turned to see the faint outline of gas escaping from the doors to the crown diamonds gallery.

Slowly, Reyer crept to the doors, pulling his gun out of its holster with his free hand. He pressed his ear to one of the doors, listening cautiously. When he heard nothing, the guard opened the gallery door and stepped inside. The sight that greeted him was far from encouraging. All the crown jewels were still tucked in their glass cases, but the floor was covered with the sleeping figures of his fellow officers, their bodies intertwined in a tangle heap.

His heart gave another lurch as he recognized the entire security team for the 1st floor. He was the only guard left on this floor, with no way to contact the other security teams. Merde! Why hadn't he though to bring backup with him on his rounds?!

As the gas finally cleared completely, Reyer heard footsteps coming into the gallery. The officer quickly darted behind one of the display cases. He took a deep breath, his gun at the ready. Could this be the infamous La Fantôme Voleur? Would he be the first to see the illustrious thief?

To say Officer Reyer was shocked when he suddenly saw a small bespectacled beagle in a bowtie turn the corner was a gross understatement. He dropped his arm, the gun swinging limply at his side.

He gaped as the dog waltzed into the room, hands folded confidently behind his back. "Ah, Splendid!" The canine smiled to himself, checking the pulse of one of the incapacitated officers. "Simply splendid!"

A rush of anger suddenly swelled up in Officer Reyer gut as the grip on his gun tightened once more. His ears flared pink with humiliation. THIS was the fiend who had single handedly swiped priceless art, robbed countless banks, bamboozled both the CIA and Interpol, and humiliated countless security personnel in museums all over the world? An English-speaking, American dog?!

He began to raise his gun again, finding the beagle in his crosshairs. But the enthusiastic voice of a child stopped him dead in his track.

"Wow, Mr. Peabody!" cried a young redheaded boy as he bounded over to the dog, his arms swinging freely at his sides. "That was so cool! How didja knock 'em all out that fast?" the child stopped squarely between the dog and the officer's loaded gun.

Reyer's confusion and alarm escalated tenfold as he hastily withdrew his weapon. What in the name of all things holy was a child doing here?!

"Sherman!" the dog scolded, his arms crossed. "I told you to wait for the signal. I haven't properly checked the perimeter yet. "

Sherman skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over one of the unconscious bodies in the process, "Sorry Mr. Peabody." He blushed sheepishly.

Peabody's gaze softened but his frown remained. "You're darn tooting you're sorry. What have I always told you?" The beagle prompted.

"Um..." The boy straightened, rocking back on his heels as he recited "A proper heist should never be rushed. You must abide by the three P's: be poised, patient, and…" He frowned, chewing on his lip as he tried to remember the last word. "Oh! And precise!"

"Good boy!" Peabody clapped Sherman on the shoulder, smiling proudly. Sherman beamed at the bog's praise.

"And for your information I used a slightly modified oneirogenic general anesthetic, of my own design of course…" At Sherman's look of utter bewilderment, the dog merely said, tucking the open gas capsules back into the satchel he had swung across his shoulders. "Knock-out gas, Sherman. Perfectly non-lethal, but it will certainly give them a whooping headache…" He picked up the open gas capsules, tucking them back into the small satchel he had swung across his shoulder.

Reyer could feel his back beginning to ache from hid crouching position behind the display case, but he didn't dare move. He merely watched the two in morbid fascination. This had to be one of the strangest things he'd ever seen. The dog was lecturing to the boy as if this was some sort of field trip.

"Oh… okay!" The boy then turned to gawk at all the jewels in their glass cases. "Oo! Which one of these are you gonna steal tonight Mr. Peabody?" He reached out to touch the glass, but Peabody quickly batted his hand away.

"Gloves first, Sherman," He reminded the child in that detached academic tone. "We don't need to be leaving any fingerprints behind."

Well, the officer had heard quite enough. Obviously the dog must've brainwashed this poor boy from a very early age. If he could only get in a better position perhaps he would have the mutt in range again…

"Oops…" Sherman blushed again, fumbling in his pockets for the pair of latex gloves the dog had given him. Upon finding them, the child wasted no time in sliding them over his hands, giggling when as the latex gave a loud snap. "Ready!" He told his father, holding out his now covered fingers.

The dog couldn't stop the smile that came to his face. "Excellent! Now while all of these jewels are lovely in their own right, there is one that stands out amongst the rest," he gestured to one of the nearby display cases. Sherman's eyes went completely round as he saw a diamond nearly as large as the palm of his hand.

Slowly, Reyer began to creep closer and closer to the two as they talked. He ducked from display case to display case when he thought the dog wasn't looking.

"This is the Regent diamond. Even today, its flawless brilliance and perfect cut ensure that it is still considered the finest diamond in the world. And…" he leaned in the smirk playfully at Sherman, "I thought it might look rather fetching on our mantle wouldn't you say?"

Sherman grinned eagerly back. "Oo! Maybe we could put it next to that the Trojan Helmet you stole on our trip to Greece!"

"Yes. I think that will do quite nicely," Peabody agreed.

Reyer was now just a mere four feet from the two. Reaching into his holster and pulling out his gun once more, the guard clicked off the safety, looked up to aim it and-

There was no one there.

"_This_ is precisely why we check the perimeter first Sherman."

Reyer whirled around only to find he was staring down the barrel of what looked like a futuristic laser gun. His head slammed painfully into one of the display cases as he jumped away from the unknown weapon.

The boy was staring at him and his gun with wide eyes, hiding behind the Mr. Peabody as best he could.

Meanwhile, Peabody was glaring at him from behind those round spectacles. "Sloppy…" he muttered to himself. "That's what this is. So unprofessional…" he spoke as if he'd merely gotten a stain on his bow tie and not just been caught by an armed guard.

Reyer's eyes narrowed. The thief wasn't even bothering to address him. What did this American mutt think himself better?! The guard stood at his full height, even at 5, 8" the Frenchman easily towered the tiny dog.

"Je vous mets en état d'arrestation pour volontairement introduction par effraction dans le but de voler-," _(I place you under arrest for willfully breaking and entering with attempt to steal-_)

But Peabody merely interrupted him with a roll of his eyes, replying "Oui, oui, C'est gentil ..." (_Yes, yes, That's nice...)_ In that infuriatingly condescending tone. He then turned to the boy behind him. "Let's see how well you're doing on your French lessons Sherman."

Sherman nodded, giggling slightly as he saw the guard's face begin to turned bright pink. If Mr. Peabody wasn't afraid of this man, why should he be?

"Comment osez-vous!" (_how dare you!_) Reyer roared in rage, raising his gun once more. "Je suis un officier de la loi et si vous ne-" (_I am an officer of the law and if you don't-)_

But the loud hum of the laser cut him off. Unfortunately, he'd gotten his wish. He now had the mutt's full attention. Peabody was pointing the weapon straight at his chest. He didn't know what the strange invention did, but he had a sneaking suspicion it would not be pleasant.

"Dès lors ne laissons pas de tout cela..." (_Right then, let's not have any of that_). Peabody began in his impeccable French, his tone was civil but his eyes were cold. "Tomber!" _(Drop it!)_

Reluctantly, Reyer dropped this gun, kicking it away with his foot, grumbling a slew of French explicatives.

"C'est mieux comme ça." (_That's more like it_.) The beagle stated in satisfaction.

Reyer's mouth curled into a snarl. "Qu'est-ce que vous donne le droit de valser juste ici et voler ce qui n'est pas le vôtre?" (_What give you the right to just waltz right in here and steal what isn't yours?_) he demanded of the smug canine.

His temper grew even more when the dog gave him that smirk of superiority. "Ce qui me donne le droit?" (_What gives me the right?)_ He laughed. "Mon cher directeur, vous rendre trop facile pour moi de résister!" _(My dear officer, you make it too easy for me to resist!_)

The Frenchman mashed his teeth in fury. That's was it, the final straw! He was at least twice the size of this animal, genius or no! He would end this humiliation.

Paying no mind to the man's escalating fury, Peabody turned to the little boy next to him. Sherman was sticking his tongue out in concentration, watching the conversation like one would a tennis match. "Are you getting any of this Sherman?"

"Some of it," the boy admitted. "But what does 'merde' mean?"

The dog chuckled, "never you mind that one. I'll-"

But he was cut off as an enraged officer Reyer lunged for him

"Mr. Peabody look out!" cried Sherman, but the genius was completely unfazed.

He easily sidestepped the charging man, allowed Reyer to slam into one of the benches by the wall. "Pay close attention now Sherman," he instructed calmly as the officer came round for another pass. "This is how you take down a much larger opponent."

After Reyer recovered from his fall he glared up at the dog. It had been a lucky shot that was all. This time he wouldn't be caught off guard.

Meanwhile, Peabody was the epitome of poise, his arms folded nonchalantly at his back as he spoke. "Now first you must remember to use your smaller size to your advantage. For example..."

Reyer made to grab the beagle but Peabody darted through his legs with ease.

"...Evade your opponent and try to unbalance him... "

The guard just barely caught himself before his momentum sent him tumbling into one of the displays. Relentlessly he darted for the dog again, but his fists found thin air.

"Do you see how I'm moving in a circular pattern Sherman?" He whirled around in shock as he heard the matter-of-fact voice come from behind him.

Peabody was talking to the redhead who was eagerly watching from the sidelines. "Remember, footwork is an essential factor in close quarters combat. You must never be stationary."

Growling, Reyer charged against, throwing punches left right and center, but none of his hits ever made their mark. Peabody, bobbed, slipped, and weaved with the skill of a trained boxer. He smirked as he allowed Reyer to wear himself out. Ironically, he was reminded of a dog chasing his tail.

"Lâche!" (_Coward!_) accused a very winded Reyer. "Vous combattez comme un chien, pas un homme!" (_You fight like a dog, not a man!_) He swung out his leg to trip the beagle, but again the dog twisted his body out of range. Reyer let out a howl of pain as his shin made contact with one if the display cases.

"Pourquoi devrais-je vous battre quand vous faites un bon travail de vous-même?" (_Why should I fight you when you are doing such a good job of it yourself?_) laughed Peabody from behind him.

Feigning a turn to the left, officer threw a right hook at the last minute, but the infuriating mutt had already anticipated this and weaved under his arm.

"Et pour le dossier ..." (_And for the record..._) he continued conversationally, jumping right in front of Reyer as if to taunt him, "...Je considère qu'un compliment." (_I consider that a compliment_.)

Reyer let out a scream of anger as he dove to throttle Peabody's scrawny neck. But before he could Peabody slid underneath him and sent a well-placed kick to his rear, sending him head over heels to the floor once more. The man's face burned in humiliation, his stamina beginning to give out.

"Alright!" cheered Sherman from the sidelines as he watched his father reduced the trained security guard to a fumbling amateur. He bounced up and down excitedly on the balls of his feet, darting around to watch the battle from every angle "Get him Mr. Peabody!"

That gave Officer Reyer an idea. He might not be able to grab the mutt, but perhaps he could grab the boy...

Making like he was going to charge at Peabody again, the Frenchman instead turned to grab the shocked redhead by the collar of his shirt. Sherman let out a cry of fear, his feet sliding across the floor as the man tugged him forward. "Mr. Peabody!"

Suddenly, a painful jab to the crux of his forearm caused Reyer to drop the child like a steaming coal.

He didn't even see Peabody coming as two more painful blows hit him, one to his knee, the other squarely in his solar plexus. The guard heaved, feeling the air leave his chest as his legs crumpled underneath him.

Then, before he could get back to his feet, an intense pain held him fast to the floor as Peabody applied pressure to the small bundle of nerves at his collarbone.

He looked up to see the dog glaring down at him. Officer Reyer couldn't help the chill that ran down his spine. There was something in those eyes that hadn't been there before, something feral. "Vous n'auriez pas dû faire ça" (_You shouldn't have done that_) Peabody whispered dangerously.

It was then that Reyer came that a sickening realization:

This whole time, Peabody had been holding back.

This was his last thought as the beagle paw came down on his temple with pinpoint accuracy, knocking the frenchman unconscious.

* * *

"Well that takes care of that!" muttered Mr. Peabody dusting off his paws and reaching for something in his bag.

Sherman watched curiously as his father hooked up a small device to the unconscious man's head.

The child's hands were still trembling slightly from being grabbed. Thank goodness Mr. Peabody had been there. Sherman just hoped his father would still let him come on heists after this mess. His dad could be a little overprotective at times.

"Please stand back Sherman," ordered Peabody as he stepped back himself, a small remote control in his hand. As the dog pressed a large red button, the device on the man's head beeped. Sherman gasped as the unconscious body twitched violently for a second before going still. Peabody, however, was completely unfazed as he picked up the device and inspected it. "Perfect!" He smiled quietly to him.

"Woah!" Sherman breathed as he approached the still body, poking at the man's cheek with his finger. "What did you do to him?" Then eyes widened as a sudden thought struck him, "you didn't kill him did you?"

"Of course not," scoffed Peabody as he cleaned off his spectacles on his fur. "That would just be unnecessary. I've merely wiped his memory of us."

At his son's bemused look the dog elaborated, holding up the device for Sherman to see. "This is a brand new invention of mine, Peabody's Patented Memory Cleanser. It sends a controlled electromagnetic pulse to the brain that, when calibrated correctly, will wipe the mind clear of all memory formed in the past twenty four hours." The dog smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Our dear Frenchman here..." He tapped the unconscious man's cranium, "...will just be waking up with one doozy of a headache."

"Is that how you've never been seen Mr. Peabody?" asked Sherman, staring at the tiny mechanism in amazement as his father tucked it back into his bag.

Peabody shook his head fervently. "Certainly not. The Memory Cleanser is used in emergencies only! To be invisible you need no invention, merely skill! What do I always say? The best thief is..."

"...Is the one nobody knows was even there," finished Sherman proudly.

Peabody smiled. "Precisely! Now come along Sherman, I believe we have a diamond to retrieve."

* * *

Mr. Peabody had felt the heist had gone rather well, all things considered. It had been all too simple to use his hand held laser to cut through the bullet proof glass and extract the Regent Diamond from its display. In good time he and Sherman had been out the window, unto the roof, and into his personal flying machine before anyone in the museum was ever the wiser.

Really he'd thought the Louvre of all places would present more of a challenge…

He would just have to be more careful in checking the perimeter next time. While it had been fun to toy with that pesky security officer, the fool had gotten a little too close to harming Sherman.

The dog watched the little redhead amused himself by spinning around in the ship's passenger chair, his knees on the seat. Peabody grinned at his son's antics. Honestly he was still getting used to bringing Sherman on his elaborate heists. His little protégé had just turned old enough that Peabody felt it was time to start training him. Sherman of course had been ecstatic to accompany his father, but the boy still had a lot to learn about patience and planning.

Of course it had taken Peabody years to learn and develop his craft. As a mere pup in the animal shelter, Peabody had come to a startling realization after being rejected by yet another family. Why did he even want to be adopted at all? Why was he so interested in impressing humanity? He was obviously far superior in intellect so why bother trying to make nice? Why bother trying to fit in? He wasn't a normal dog and he certainly wasn't human, so why not just make his own rules?

He'd started out with small things, stolen books, and the occasional missing cage key. He'd even managed to rig a device to steal dog food from the dish so he wouldn't have to compete with his fellow littermates. However it wasn't until he left the orphanage that his illustrious career began.

He'd started out as a pickpocket on the streets of New York, but it wasn't long before the cunning, charismatic dog had formed his own ring of pick pockets that spanned the whole city. Not once could the crimes be traced back to him.

However as he'd grown older and more skilled, He found his true calling: the art of thievery. Of course he didn't just mean the simple act of filching someone pocket book while their guard was down. No, He meant the elaborate heists that made newspaper headlines, the meticulously planned capers that startled the public and befuddled the police. At last Peabody had found something to challenge his genius intellect.

Known for quite some time as the "Terror of Manhattan," Peabody singled handedly pulled of heist after heist, each one more elaborate than the next. A master at evading capture, Peabody's crimes rose in infamy and notoriety as he continued to bamboozle the media and the authorities alike.

But he'd soon grown bored of New York and decided to try his luck overseas in Europe. With his many stolen riches Peabody had managed to not only become an elite member of society, but also create his own worldwide criminal network on the side. However he'd taken care to keep both halves of his life separate.

To the public Mr. Peabody was a wealthy philanthropist and CEO of his own worldwide corporation. To the world's seedy underbelly, however, he was the invisible hand that pulled the strings of numerous crime syndicates all over the world. In a way, Peabody liked to think he even policed the criminal world in a sense. After all, each of the subordinates he contracted with had to abide by a strict code of conduct that called for no unnecessary violence. After all, violence fore violence sake was barbaric in the eyes of the genius. True crime was an art form, not a mere past time for thugs.

Of course on top of running a massive corporation and numerous criminal organizations, Peabody had still found time for in his busy schedule to pull off a few heists in his spare time. Everyone has to have a hobby after all…

Still, even after all this time, the world hadn't the slightest clue just how much power he wielded. Only now did the CIA and Interpol begin to connect the dots to his many elaborate art burglaries, but that was only because Peabody allowed them to by leaving his signature puns at the scene of each caper. For the most part, the criminal mastermind had remained a shadowy anonymous figure to the world and he intended to keep it that way.

He supposed if he wanted to he could very well take over the world. After all he already controlled several weapons companies worldwide and was wealthier than several countries combined. But, then again, he'd never really cared for humanity. Why would he want to rule it? He was having far too much fun in his own villainous autonomy to care for what the world did with itself.

Yes, Peabody had been perfectly content with his life, not realizing something was missing until the day he'd become a father.

It had been during one of his monthly heists seven years ago. Peabody had been planning to rob on of Manhattan's largest banks, but his plans changed when he suddenly heard a strange caterwauling in a nearby alley. Intrigued, the genius had followed the cries to find an infant boy, no more than three months old. The baby had been abandoned in a cardboard box with nothing but a name pinned to his diaper: Sherman.

Now Peabody had spent his whole life disliking and mistrusting humans. Still even after a lifetime of disillusionment, he just couldn't bring himself to hate this innocent babe. When he looked into those wide brown eyes, he was reminded of himself as a pup, being rejected by family after family.

Well, he'd been recently thinking of taking on a protégé. After all, what was the use of building a criminal legacy when you have no one to pass it down to? At least, that's what Peabody had told himself as he removed the baby from the wilting cardboard. Still, his cold calculating heart couldn't help but melt as the baby cooed softly and nestled into the crook of his arm.

So this was what it felt like to be loved by another? The feeling was strange and foreign, but Peabody welcomed it all the same. He'd taken Sherman home with him, cleaned him off, and decided to raise the child as his own. They had been together ever since.

Pulling out of his internal monologue, Mr. Peabody made his way to the pilot's chair and punched in the coordinates for their penthouse in New York City.

"Aww! Mr. Peabody!" groaned Sherman as he leaned over the back of the chair. "Can't we please go to another museum tonight?" He used those big brown eyes to his full advantage as he pleaded.

But Peabody merely chuckled and shook his head. "Sherman you know as well as I that it takes at least a week to plan a proper, worthwhile caper. And besides…" he ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, "…It's a school night."

With that the dog hit the ignition and steered the craft upwards. He waited until they were high above the clouds to turn off the cloaking shield and switch on the thrusters. Pretty soon the tiny ship was moving at supersonic speed towards home.

Sherman bit his lip nervously as he fidgeted in his seat. "Umm… Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes Sherman?" The dog replied, his eyes fixed on the sky as he steered.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

Peabody frowned in confusion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sherman sink low in his chair. An extremely intelligent and precocious child, Sherman usually liked to go to school. Unless… "Has that bothersome Peterson girl been teasing you again?"

"Maybe…" Sherman blushed. His brows furrowed as he huffed in frustration. "She just won't leave me alone. But every time I tell her ta stop she just laughs at me. And it's not like I could hit a girl-"

"Sherman!" Peabody scolded lightly, turning away from the skyline to give his son his full attention. "I have told you time and time again that physical violence should never be your first choice!"

"Yeah…" Sherman deflated, slumping back in his seat, "…I guess you're right…"

The dog smiled confidently. "Of course I am. And besides…" He turned to give his boy a wicked grin. "Psychological domination is the name of the game!"

It took a moment, but Sherman caught his father meaning loud and clear. A mischievous smile soon came to his face. "Really? You're gonna help me get back at her?"

Peabody nodded, happy to pass down the experience a lifetime of crime could bring, "My boy, allow me to tell you about the fine art of revenge…"

Yes, as far as Mr. Peabody was concerned, being a criminal mastermind was all well and good, but being a father was even better…

* * *

It wasn't until hours later—when the museum's surveillance cameras and two way radios finally regained signal—that the rest of the Louvre found the entire 1stfloor security team unconscious on the floor, The Regent Diamond stolen from its display case.

As Peabody had predicted, Officier Reyer came back into consciousness with a splitting headache. He was thoroughly confused as to what he was doing at work. The last thing he remembered was having dinner with his wife the night before.

As the befuddled man was led out of the gallery, the Paris police department was just arriving on the scene. Chief Inspector François Bureau took the lead, his trench coat brushing the marble floors as he angrily strode into the gallery.

"Merde!" he swore as he approached the display case. The inspector only needed to take one look at the crime scene before surmising the culprit. Meticulous planning, no traceable evidence, a clean laser-cut hole in the bullet proof glass, La Fantôme Voleur had struck again. Bureau groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. The media was going to have a field day with this. He could just see the headlines now: **"La Fant****ôme Outsmarts Police Once Again!****"**

"Sir?" Came a tentative voice behind him.

Bureau whirled around to see one of the security guards behind him. "C'est quoi?!" (_what is it?_) he asked, trying and failing to keep the aggravation from his voice.

The young officer nervously held up a clear evidence bag for the inspector to take. "Nous avons pensé que vous aimeriez voir. Il a été trouvé sur les lieux du crime" (_We thought you might like to see this. It was found at the scene of the crime_). Inside the bag was a simple letter. The penmanship was neat, precise, and impeccable. Bureau recognized it instantly.

Taking the bag from the officer, Inspector Bureau wasted no time in ripping it and snatching up the letter. All around him, the police officers converged to read it over his shoulder.

"To my dear friends at the Louvre,

Gentleman, The Regent Diamond is indeed a sight to behold. I can see why it is one of the most flawless jewels in the world. If only your security made that same perfect cut. Truthfully, I was expecting more of a challenge. Still, you made a valiant effort; therefore I leave you with a diamond regent of my own.

Sincerely,

Your Fantôme Voleur."

As his shaking hands began to crumple the latter, the Inspector noticed that something else was attached to the back of the page. He turned the letter around to see a simple playing card: the king of diamonds to be precise, a diamond regent.

All the police and security gave a collective groan was they saw it. One guard in the back laughed for a moment before his brow furrowed in confusion. "Je ne comprends pas…"

* * *

**Umm****… So what do you guys think?**

**I know it****'s pretty different from anything else I****'ve ever written for this fandom, but it was kinda fun to mess with Peab****'s moral compass like that****…**

**Please read and review, I****'m very curious as to the feedback this is going to receive. Oh, and I promise chapter 4 of What Matters Most is next on my list to update.**


	4. Mother's Day

**Hello Warpers! In honor of Mother's Day I wanted to add another ****installment**** to "Of a Dog and His Boy." **

**Now this is meant to be a follow-up to chapter one, Daisy, so I suggest you read that first if you haven't already. ****Anyway, I've been meaning to write a resolution to this chapter for a while and the holiday gave me just the inspiration I needed to finally write it! I hope you like it (and don't hate me for putting poor Peabody through so much)!**

**(( this is dedicated to my mother, because she's awesome! (And because I'm a poor college student who can't afford to get her a real gift...)))**

**Disclaimer: Sherman and Peabody are the cutest gosh-darn things, but I still don't own them... :(**

* * *

**I thought of you today, but that is nothing new. **

**I thought about you yesterday and days before that too.**

**I think of you in silence, I often speak your name. **

**All I have are memories and your picture in a frame. **

**Your memory is a keepsake from which I****'****ll never part. **

**God has you in His arms, I have you in my heart.**

**-Unknown**

* * *

It was the 11th of May, Mother's Day to be precise. Normally the holiday passed without notable consequence in the Peabody household. It was merely a date; another Sunday morning and nothing more. This year, however, Mr. Peabody found himself inexplicably distracted.

That morning the genius had risen at five o'clock sharp, as per usual. Even on Sundays Mr. Peabody had never been one for "sleeping in." There was simply too much work to be done for such frivolities. After all, to quote his dear friend Mr. Franklin: Early to bed and early to rise, makes a dog healthy, wealthy, and wise-paraphrased of course, but the message still holds...

Peabody had begun his usual routine with a rousing cup of tea (his own herbal blend of course), followed by yoga, and-his favorite-morning mindfulness meditation.

Meditation was something the canine genius practiced on a regular basis. In his youth Peabody had spent over six months in the mountains of northern China, training extensively with Shaolin monks in the ways of mental mastery.

Initially, Peabody had only sought the knowledge as simply a means to gain control of his more… problematic canine instincts. However, the more he'd lived amid the monks, the more appreciation he'd gained for both their practices and their culture. The monk's philosophy of cultivating one's body mind and spirit to become a better person for themselves and others had been most inspiring to the young genius. Someday he hoped to pass on the techniques he'd learned to Sherman. That is, as soon as he could teach the boy to sit still for longer than two minutes.

Usually, for Peabody, morning meditation was a time of cleansing relaxation, a chance to clear his ever active mind and just be. However, try as he may, the beagle couldn't seem to center himself. Even in the deepest recesses of his mind, Peabody's thoughts were of the warm fur that he used to nestle in on cold nights, the soothing tongue that used to lick the top of his head, and those sad eyes that never really understood him, but had loved him all the same.

And, try as he might, Peabody just couldn't stop himself from thinking of his own mother. It wasn't often these bouts of irrational sentimentality hit him, but when they did, it was very hard to concentrate on anything else.

He supposed it was unsurprising that his thoughts were so preoccupied by Daisy. After all, it was Mother's Day and it had only been a week since he'd finally gotten up the courage to tell Sherman about her…

* * *

Having never heard his father talk about anything in his puppyhood, Sherman had been fascinated to hear about Daisy. He didn't seem to mind that Peabody had had such a... rudimentary upbringing. The concept of having a mother was so foreign to the boy that he hung on eagerly to his father's every word, utterly enthralled

"D'ya think she woulda liked me?" Sherman had asked on that night. He'd still been covered from head to toe in flour from his disastrous attempt at baking. He and Peabody had been sitting amid the remains of a very messy kitchen.

"I think she would've been very fond of you." He'd replied with a warm smile. He didn't have the heart to tell Sherman that his mother would've loved anyone who scratched her behind the ears.

When he'd finally told Sherman about his mother's passing, his son had been quiet as he listened to Peabody's every word, realising his father was trusting him with something very private and personal.

"And that's why I'm not quite myself when this day comes around," he'd concluded "I suppose I just... miss her sometimes..." His mind had come to the revelation only after the words had spilled forth.

"Isn't there anyway we could visit her?" Asked Sherman tentatively. "Like a grave or something? Mason said his Mom gets really sad on the day his Grandma died, so she goes to the cemetery to visit her."

Peabody thought back to that unmarked clod of dirt in the Grayson's backyard and grimaced, his heart giving an uncomfortable throb. "No, I'm afraid not Sherman," the dog sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. "My mother's passing... Well... It just wasn't seen as... There wasn't much of a ceremony," he concluded with the safest answer.

Sherman's face fell, "Oh..."

"But it's alright," he'd reassured his son. "I still have this to remember her by." He held up his mother's worn collar for Sherman to see. Then, after a moment's hesitation, Peabody lowered it into the boy's hands.

Sherman had taken the scrap of fabric reverently, turning over the heart shaped tag to read the dull, faded lettering, DAISY.

"I realize It's not much," Peabody admitted self consciously, absently petting Sherman's messy auburn hair. "But it still has her scent."

"No, I like it!" Sherman reassured his father, leaning into the the dog and getting flour all over the both of them. "It's really nice..."

Peabody sneezed as a bit of the white powder wafted over his nose. "Well now," he began, picking himself up of the hardwood floor and stretching his sore tail. "why don't you go get ready for bed while I take care of the kitchen."

"What?" The boy stared at his father in confusion as he scrambled to his feet. "But I was the one who made the mess. Shouldn't I have to clean it up?"

But Peabody simply smiled and waved the child off. "At the moment I'd rather you cleaned yourself up first," he held up a lock of Sherman's flour-coated hair for emphasis. "I wouldn't get any cleaning done with you carrying half the mess on your person." While all he said was true, Mr. Peabody also just wanted Sherman out of harms way from the glass shards of the shattered mixing bowl that were still scattered on the ground .

"Okay Mr. Peabody," Sherman relented with a good natured smile, all too used to his father's neurotic ways. Carefully, he handed the collar back to the beagle and turned to go.

"And no dilly dallying! I want you to go straight to the bathroom and take a shower!" called Peabody playfully over his shoulder as he made his way to the supply closet to get a dustpan and brush.

"Yes Mr. Peabody."

'And I will know if you used shampoo or not!"

"YES MR. PEABODY...

* * *

Peabody smiled at the memory. Truthfully, it had been strange to talk about that first year of his life with Daisy.

Ever since he'd struck out on his own Peabody had worked tirelessly to prove himself, to show the world that he was more than a mere dog performing tricks. All these years He had grown so accustomed to simply burying any memories of his former life at the shelter, that he'd been shocked to realize just how much he remembered.

When he'd finally allowed himself to open up, all those memories he'd held captive for so long had burst forth, flooding his mind with memory after memory...

The nights when he would read to his mother everything from novels to newspaper clippings. The afternoons spent by the creek next to the barn, showing her all of the organisms he'd collected from the pond scum. The times when she used to chase his siblings away from the food bowl just so he could take a few bites. The way she would nip playfully at his ears to wake him up in the mornings. The way she would curl around him as he cried after being rejected by another family, content to stay with him until he'd fallen asleep.

He remembered how cold she'd felt on that morning he'd awoken to find her gone, nothing more than an empty vessel of fur and bone. It had all been so sudden. He'd never even gotten the chance to say goodbye...

His mind suddenly reeling back, Peabody took a deep gulp of air and he remerged from the slew of emotion before it could drown him.

The beagle sighed in defeat as he ran a hand down his face and wiped the moisture from his eyes. Well obviously he wasn't going to be finding inner peace anytime soon.

Getting up from his lotus position, Mr. Peabody stretched, sighing as he felt his spine give a satisfying pop.

Usually the genius was extremely skilled at compartmentalizing his thoughts and emotions. But with all these sudden memories coming to the surface and the date today, Peabody was finding it immensely hard to concentrate on anything else.

Well this just wouldn't do. There was work to be done, paperwork to be filed, inventions to be completed. He simply had no time to dwell in the past. Still, Peabody found himself subconsciously walking towards his office, his mind wandering to the hidden drawer in his desk and it's contents.

He would just give the collar a quick sniff, the dog reasoned with himself. He just needed to smell his mother's scent before he locked up the memories for another year. Perhaps then all these troublesome feelings in his heart would cease.

Walking down the hallway, Peabody smiled as the passed by Sherman's door, listening to the soft, peaceful breaths of his still-sleeping son wafting out from within the room.

Having to get up at six thirty each morning to get dressed, have breakfast and be on time for his father to drive him to school, Sherman savored his chance to sleep-in on the weekends. Not that Peabody minded. It was rather nice to have some time to himself in the mornings. Especially on mornings like these...

the dog slipped quietly into his office, not even bothering to turn on the light. The sunshine streaming through the windows was sufficient enough.

Walking over to the large, desk, Peabody slid his hand along its underside, pressing the small button hidden in the elaborate moulding. The hatch to the compartment opened with a crisp click, but when the beagle reached in, his paw only met with air.

Peabody felt his heart plummet to his stomach as he felt all around the drawer, finding it completely empty. Daisy's collar was gone...

A jolt of alarm trailed up the dog's spine as he checked under the desk, supposing it had merely fallen down while he was putting it away last week. Much to his dismay, Peabody didn't see the collar anywhere. He sniffed the air frantically, hoping to catch a whiff of the familiar scent, but all he caught were a few stale remnants coming from the drawer.

It had to be around here somewhere. After all, he only took it out once a year...

Trying and failing to hold back his anxiety, the beagle began rummaging through his other desk drawers, tossing his organized paperwork into messy piles. But still the collar was nowhere to be found.

A small part of Peabody felt foolish for placing such importance on a faded old dog collar, but his own sentiment overruled the embarrassment. It was more than just a collar. It was the only thing in this world he had left of his mother.

He scoured the small office thoroughly, throwing open his filing cabinets, rooting through the expansive bookcases, and pawing over his priceless collections of artifacts. Each time he turned up empty. Books fell to the floor, papers were sent flying. All the while Peabody continued to sniff, his nose trailing a foot above the ground as he desperately tried to track the scent.

Mr. Peabody's fears were quickly escalating into full blown panic as he continued to find nothing. "Where could it have possibly gone?!"

He was on all fours, peering under one of the bookshelves when he was suddenly startled by a small voice behind him.

"Mr. Peabody...?"

*CLUNK*

For a moment, the genius saw stars as he accidentally banged his head on the mahogany shelf.

Paw pressed to his now aching cranium, the dog turned to see a sleepy looking Sherman standing in the doorway, staring at his father in confusion. He was still in his pajamas, his messy red hair lying partially flat on the side where he'd slept on it. The boy let out a loud yawn. "Is everything ok? It sounded like you're having a bowling tournament in here or somethin'..."

Peabody hadn't realized just how much noise he'd been making in his frenzied search. Sherman must've heard all of his banging about and woken up. A blush crept into his face. As he picked himself up off the ground, awkwardly dusting off his bow tie.

Instinctively he began to hide his distress and reassure his son. "Yes, yes, everything's fine. I'm sorry to have woken you Sherman. It's just that I've... misplaced something." He finished lamely. The genius picked up a few of books he had thrown to the floor in a neatly stacked pile on the desk, as if this act of cleanliness would somehow excuse the mess surrounding him.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sherman looked around in surprise at the chaotic state of Mr. Peabody's usually meticulously kept office. "Whoa! What were you..." But he trailed off as his eyes fell on the hidden drawer in the desk, still hanging wide open from where Peabody had left it.

That's when the beagle smelled it. That same cloying odor that seemed to follow his boy every time he caught Sherman sneaking sweets from the pantry or not practicing his piano scales. Having been a father for seven and a half years now, Mr. Peabody knew guilt when he smelled it. He raised an eyebrow at his boy.

"Sherman? Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Sherman shuffled nervously, tracing his socked feet along the designs of the oriental rug. "Umm... Good morning?"

Peabody's stare intensified, the beagle wasn't buying it for a minute. "Sherman..."

Sherman finally looked up to meet the dogs eyes. The child bit his lip nervously. "Okay... But could you wait for a minute? There's something I gotta get first."

Now it was Peabody's turn to looked surprised. "Alright then," he agreed slowly.

Upon getting his father's consent, the boy was out the door in minutes. Peabody watched him go, hearing the muffled thumps of his feet on the hardwood floor.

Quietly, the dog wondered just what Sherman was hiding. Usually an open book, so to speak, it wasn't like his child to be secretive about anything.

Peabody picked up a few more of the papers that he'd knocked to the floor in his previous panic. He felt his face grow warm once more.

Fortunately he didn't have long to dwell in the mess he'd made. He could already hear the hurried footfalls of his son draw nearer. Sherman rushed into office, sliding on the hardwood a few feet before coming to a stop.

Peabody was about to ask his son what had been so important, but stopped as The redhead pulled out what he'd been holding behind his back.

Clutched tight in the boy's hands was a small wrapped package. Peabody could definitely tell Sherman had wrapped the gift himself. The paper was crinkled and messy, there was tape every which way on it's surface, all held together with a sloppy bow.

"Sherman, what's-" but he was cut off as Sherman held the gift up in front if his snout, a nervous smile on his face.

Tentatively, Peabody took the gift into his paws, giving his son a bewildered look. It wasn't often the genius found himself so utterly lost.

"It's for you." Sherman explained, twisting his hands in his pajama top. "Ya know for moth-" But he stopped as he thought about what he was saying. "Well, not exactly you, but sort of..." He fumbled."Uh... Why don't you just open it?"

Peabody retained the same befuddled expression, but agreed to his son's request just the same. He didn't understand what all this had to do with-

But his eyes widened as the package's smell hit him. Beneath the curious scents of tissue paper, glue, and paint, an all too familiar odor came to his nose. Tearing off the wrapping paper, Peabody drew a sharp breath of surprise at what lay in his hands.

It was a round wooden plaque, painted with all the care and precision a seven year old could possibly give. around the edge of the plaque was a simple name, the white child-like lettering standing out from the blue paint: DAISY. And there, hanging between two nails in the center of the plaque, lay his mother's collar. The heart-shaped tags, now freshly polished, glinted up at him. Peabody ran a paw along the roughly sanded surface, carefully tracing the letters of his mother's name. Sherman had also drawn swirls and flowers as a boarder around the rest of the plaque's edges, framing the collar in beautiful simplicity.

"Last week we had to make mother's day gifts during art class." elaborated Sherman, fiddling with his hands as he spoke. "But I didn't know what to do since I don't really have a mom…" He trailed off for a moment before continuing. "But then I thought of your mom, and how you said you said she didn't get a funeral or anything. And, in a way, she's kinda like my grandma…" Sherman rubbed the back of his neck as he rambled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise, but I had to make sure the collar would fit. So I took it without asking. I'm sorry..." He mumbled. The boy then stared up at Peabody, anxious anticipation shining in his eyes.

"So... D'ya like it?"

For perhaps the one of first times in his life Mr. Peabody was rendered completely and utterly speechless.

On the day his mother had died, Peabody felt as if his life was moving in fast forward. Everything had been so sudden. On minute his mother had been perfectly fine, and the next she'd been gone, buried four feet in the ground. It hadn't occurred to him until now that he'd never truly had a chance to mourn her passing all those years ago. He'd been so shocked, so terrified of suffering the same nameless end, that all he could think of was getting as far away from the shelter as he could. Peabody had pushed down his grief until nothing but numb resolve remained.

But, to see the simple, homemade plaque in his hands, a reminder that his mother had been loved, that she had been worth remembering. To know that his son had wanted to honor her memory, that he too saw Daisy as something more than the common canine she had been ...

Peabody spoke over eight different languages fluently, but this brought more joy to the genius's heart that he believed words could ever express.

"Mr. Peabody...?" Sherman's hand brushed over his father's paw, not quite knowing how to read the expression of the beagle's face.

It took a moment for Peabody to clear the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. "Sherman," Peabody started in the steadiest voice he could muster, his eyes meeting Sherman's own in the deepest sincerity, "I do believe that this is the greatest gift I have ever received!"

Then, before Sherman could respond, Peabody wrapped the boy in a tight embrace, careful not to show the single tear running down his muzzle.

"Wow..." Breathed Sherman in amazement, as he pressed his cheek into his father's shoulder. "Really Mr. Peabody? You like it?"

"Yes," the beagle choked out, squeezing his son tight. "More than you could ever know..." His voice was heavy, but his heart had never felt lighter.

All these years he'd been so ashamed of his past. Ashamed of the grief he'd kept locked away in the recesses of his mind. Who knew all it took was a simple gift from his son to prove to the genius how wrong he'd been.

What was there to be ashamed of? He'd loved his mother just as she was, canine intellect and all. Peabody was tired of locking away all his fond memories of her. He was tired of not acknowledging that he missed her sometimes.

In spite of his vast intelligence, Mr. Peabody found he had a lot to learn when it came to his own emotions. However, it there was one thing Sherman had shown him, it was that his feelings weren't weakness, they were strength.

"You know," he started as the the two broke apart. "I believe I have the perfect place for this." He held up the plaque for emphasis. "This would look lovely on our memory wall. Wouldn't you agree?"

A wide grin stretched across Sherman's face. "Could we put it next to that picture of us at the world's fair in Paris?" He asked, arms flapping about in excitement. "You know, the one with us on the Eiffel Tower all lit up?"

"I don't see why not." Peabody answered, ruffling his son's messy hair.

"Alright!" Sherman cheered as he skipped out of the office. But before he could reach the door, the boy stopped in his tracks, and turned back. "Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes?" Peabody replied, cocking his head as he detected the sudden waver in his son's voice.

Sherman paused for a moment, biting his lip as he internally debated what he was going to say. "Happy Mother's Day." he finally blurted out. A blush came to his cheeks, but the look in his eyes held nothing but love.

For a moment Peabody was taken aback, but his eyes soon softened, a warm smile coming to his muzzle. "Happy Mother's Day to you as well Sherman."

* * *

**Well there you go! It's sappy and stupidly sentimental, but I hope you guys like it anyway.**

**I only hope I kept Peabody in character. I've always pictured him as someone who has a hard time coping with his own feelings so he tends to bury them. That said, it's hard to make his more emotional scenes sound truly genuine. **

**Please don't forget to leave feedback! I love hearing your thoughts and opinions!**

**Warmest Regards,**

**Katie **


	5. Tumblr Drabbles Part 1

**Hello all, Katie here again.**

**I feel these next few chapters are going to need some context:**

**A few weeks ago I reblogged a hurt/comfort writing meme on Tumblr. The prompt was that my followers had to choose one item from a list of words/phrases, and send me two characters to write about. The large response I received surprised me, to say the least. Anyway, now that most of the drabbles are finished I figured I would upload them to "Of a Dog and His Boy." Some are sad, some are funny, and some are just fluff, but I hope you all like them!(And, if you follow me on tumblr: Sorry, it's just the stuff I've already uploaded)  
**

**This first part is for all the sad drabbles, while Part 2 and 3 are divided between the more humorous, fluffy pieces. **

* * *

** Fight-(Peabody & Sherman)**

"But Mr. Peabody that isn't fair! I-"

But Sherman's father cut him off before he could finish.,

"I don't suppose you would like some cheese to go with that whine of yours?" the dog quipped sharply, his posture rigid, the expression on his face hard and unrelenting. "Now Sherman. I refuse to have this conversation with you until you can respond to me properly in a more mature fashion. Perhaps if you were to spend some time in your room-"

"ARGH!" Sherman ran his hands angrily through his messy hair. "What's the point?" He grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and turning to go. "It's not like you're gonna hear me out anyway..."

"Excuse me!" Peabody grabbed hold of Sherman's arms and whirled him around. "What did you say young man?!"

"You heard me!" the boy raged, his anger slowly escalating with every word. "What's the point? You've never cared about anything I have to say! YOU NEVER EVEN LISTEN TO ME!" Sherman's face was bright red, his arms pinned to his sides. "YOU SAY YOU KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR ME, BUT HAVE YOU EVER ASKED WHAT I WANTED, WHAT MATTERS TO ME?!"

Peabody took a step back, stunned by the sudden outburst. "Sherman, I-"

"But why bother right?" Sherman sniffed, wiping aggressively at the tears forming in his eyes. "You're perfect and all I ever do is screw things up. Sometimes I wonder why you bother keeping me around…"

Then, before Peabody could so much as respond, the boy turned on his heel and took off. The door to his bedroom slammed shut with a bang that reverberated off the penthouse walls. Still, the noise was nothing compared the metaphorical sound of Peabody's heart breaking.

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**Sorry guys. No real resolution to this one. I was just asked to write a fight between Mr. Peabody and Sherman and this is what came off the top of my head. Maybe I'll write a story similar to this one day and resolve it, but for now that's pretty much it. Onto the second drabble...**

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**(PLEASE READ THIS IF YOU WANT CONTEXT FOR THE 2ND DRABBLE!)**

**Bullied-(Sherman & Penny)**

**I'd been wanting to explore their relationship for a while anyway, so this prompt was fun in a twistedly morbid sort of way. Also, I don't think anyone has written a middle school Sherman yet, so I thought that would be fun to experiment with. Again, I will specify: THIS FEATURES AN OLDER SHERMAN (he's 11 years old)  
**

**Oh, and I apologize in advance for all I put poor Sherman through. Let's just say Middle School wasn't kind to him…**

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"But then Phoebe was saying that a miniskirt was hardly the right thing to wear on the first day of school. Of course it's also totally against dress code. But she insisted that Vanessa texted her last night and told her it was alright. So then I texted Vanessa and… Sherman! Are you even paying attention?!"

"Sorry Penny," Sherman said in a strained voice from behind the enormous pile of textbooks in his arms. "But I'm a little busy here…"

"Oh," the preteen girl blushed, finally noticing how her best friend was straining under the massive load. She reached up, taking a few books off the pile to carry for him. "Sorry, I guess I'm just nervous…" She smoothed out her plaid skirt and ran a hand through her hair.

The two eleven year-olds walked down bustling the hallway of Eleanor Roosevelt junior high on their first day of middle school. All around them upperclassman leaned casually against the lockers, laughing and chatting away about how their summers had been. Meanwhile all the new sixth graders were scrambling to find their home rooms, their new schedules gripped tightly in their hands.

"So… Think your Dad got you enough books?" She smirked playfully, holding up a middle school history textbook for emphasis.

"Mr. Peabody says it's always a good thing to be prepared for anything on the first day." Sherman shrugged, wobbling slightly as the stack shifted in his arms. "I'm just glad I talked him out of making me pack How to Learn Mandarin Chinese. He says he'll just have to teach it to me in my spare time."

Penny laughed and rolled her eyes "That sounds like Mr. Peabody alright! Sherman, I love your dad, but even you have to admit he's a massive nerd."

"Yeah well…" Sherman pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "He means well. Mostly I think he's just nervous. It took us a whole extra hour just to get out of the house because he wanted to talk to me about the 'proper way to organize my locker.'" He hadn't really had the heart to point out to his father that, for all the genius's smarts, the dog had never actually been to middle school himself.

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yep, that sounds like him! So what finally got you out of the house?"

Sherman grinned his own lopsided smile back "I just told him I was gonna be late on my first day of school." He cleared his throat to give the best impersonation of his father he could. "Well then Sherman, in the words of King Louis the 18th: Punctuality is the politeness of kings! Let's be off!" He even managed to copy the way his father would adjust his glasses as he spoke—an impressive feat for a boy carrying so many books. "Not that King Louis was too quick to be on time during the revolution mind you. You could say he hadn't planned a-head for that one!" Sherman snorted at his own joke.

Penny groaned and shoved the redhead good naturedly. "Okay THAT'S just scary! I don't know who's the bigger dork, you or your dad."

"Hey look!" Sherman headed towards one of the lockers at the end of the hallway. "I think this one's mine!" Balancing the precarious stack on one hip, Sherman rummaged around in his pockets, drawing out a small slip of paper. "Yep! locker 125!"

"Congratulations, Penny muttered dryly, opening the locker door for her friend. "Now hurry up! We've gotta get to homeroom by 8 and I, for one, am not being late on the first day."

All to happy to get rid of the extra weight in his arms, Sherman tossed the books into the locker. But before he could close the door-

*SKREET*

A shrill squeak echoed through the hallway, sounding like the last cry of some dying rodent. And, much to Sherman's horror, the sound had come from his locker.

The high pitched noise echoed over the hallway's vaulted ceilings, turning the heads of numerous children. Sherman blushed as he felt all of their eyes on him.

Getting down on his knees, Sherman sifted through the pile of books. But his fingers froze when they came into contact with something slick and slimey. Slowly drawing it out from under the pile, Sherman's heart plummeted as he laid eyes on a beat up, used squeaky bone.

Covered in dog slobber and bitemarks, the scrap of rubber looked like someone had taken it straight from their dog's jaws that morning. A goofy smile was painted on the bone, one of the eyes chipping off. On it, some had tied a note. "Welcome to middle school Dog Boy!" read the messy scrawl.

Behind him, Sherman could hear the cruel bouts laughter. A group of older boys smirked looking quite proud of themselves. They all gave each other high fives, chortling unkindly.

A few students rolled their eyes and sighed at their fellow classmates immaturity. But still, no one was quick to rush to Sherman's defense.

Sherman face burned with humiliation as he stood there, the disgusting dog toy still clutched in his hand. He gulped, but found himself unable to swallow, his throat too choked.

Next to him, Penny's face had turned red as well. Her tiny fists shook as she glared daggers at the boys who were still congratulating themselves. She opened her mouth, but before any words could leave her lips…

*BRRRIIIIIING*

Sherman never thought he had ever been so grateful to hear the sound of the school bell. Slowly, the crowd that had formed around them dispersed as students headed off to their homerooms.

But before Sherman could take one step to get away, he felt a hand clamp down tightly on his shoulder. He froze, turning his head to see one of the older boys sneering down at him. Easily twice Sherman's size, the boy smirked he leaned in close, his breath fogging up the lens of the redhead's glasses.

"Hope you liked our little present."

Sherman made a move to step back, but the older boy's vice-like grip held him fast. The younger boy grimaced, his nose wrinkling. The boy's breath smelled terrible and he was so close, that Sherman could see every pimple on the boy's pockmarked face.

"We found it just for you, Freak!" He held every syllable of the last word, eagerly searching Sherman's face for a reaction.

"Leave him alone you creep!" Snapped Penny, staring down the older boy unabashedly. But before she could take two steps, two of his cronies had blocked her path, leering down at her. She glared up at them, unafraid.

Meanwhile Sherman averted his gaze, his eyes fixed on his shoes. Tears prickled mercilessly at the back of his eyes, but he held them in. He'd read somewhere that maintaining eye contact only increases aggression. Well if there's one thing he didn't want to do, it was to antagonize these boys further. He didn't even know what he'd done in the first place…

But the boy wasn't done with him yet. "you should expect more presents from us in the future." He hissed, eyes glinting with playful malice. "After all, we've got a long three years ahead of us…"

Then, before Sherman could so much as blink, the older boy shoved him. Arms flailing, Sherman toppled backwards into his open locker, falling on top of the pile of books with a humiliating squeak. He'd fallen on the dog toy.

The older boys laughed mercilessly at the squeak, clutching their sides and giving each other high fives.

"See ya round Dog Boy!" Their leader called over his shoulder, sending Sherman one last smirk before heading down the hallway and off to his class.

Sherman's blush deepen to a dark crimson as he sat there on the pile of textbooks.. Honestly he didn't know what hurt worse, the throbbing pain in his tailbone, or his battered pride. Now it was only he and Penny who remained in the deserted hallway.

Penny was at his side in seconds, her arm outstretched for him to take. He took it gratefully, pulling himself out of the locker and fixing his crooked glasses.

"Oh! Those… Those… JERKS!" She exclaimed, kicking one of the lockers so hard the bang echoed off the walls. "Who do they think they are? What have you ever done to them!"

Sherman shrugged, dusting off his uniform and proceeding to pick up the books. "You know, psychologists say that bullies are only jerks because they don't like themselves." He mumbled, quoting a few facts off the top of his head as a coping mechanism. His gaze remained fixed downwards. "They just pick on other kids to make themselves feel better."

"Yeah well they're still jerks!" Penny spat, glaring at at the corner where they'd walked away. "When I see that guy again I'm gonna-"

"Penny! Just don't," Sherman pleaded. The girl turned to see he'd finally looked up at her, his eyes watery and red rimmed. "Then they'd start on you too."

But Penny wouldn't hear any of it. "Then let them try," she declared haughtily. "Honestly Sherman if you think I'm just gonna stand by and let those lame-brain morons bully you, you're dumber than I thought." She punched his arm and smiled at him.

Sherman cracked a tiny smile back, all too used to Penny backhanded sense of motivation. "Thanks Penny. I think…"

Penny smiled as she picked more books off the ground and handed them to him. "But seriously, you've got to at least tell someone, maybe your Dad could-"

"No way!" Sherman shook his head fervently, clutching a the textbook to his chest. "Mr. Peabody doesn't need to know about this." If he told Mr. Peabody the genius would want to know what had happened. Sherman glanced down at the chewed up rubber bone on the ground and winced. He really REALLY didn't want to tell his father exactly what those boys had done.

"But Sherman-" her protests died, however when she saw his hard gaze.

"Fine! Have it your way," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "But if one of those guys wants to start something again, you are not allowed to hold me back!"

"He's twice the size of you," Sherman pointed out discouragingly.

But Penny just waved him off, rolling her eyes. "Boys! When are you going to learn that fighting back isn't all just wrestling and violence? We girls have more… effective ways of getting back at people."

"Do I even want to know?" Sherman raised an eyebrow

Penny smirked back "Probably not." She answered. The blond flipped her hair and turned to leave. She looked back at Sherman expectantly. "So are you coming or what? We have to get to homeroom."

Sherman tried to give the best fake smile he could muster, but it just looked like a strange grimace. "I'll be there in a minute," he muttered. Gathering up all the textbooks back into his arms and turning towards his locker. He stopped, however, when he felt dainty hand on his shoulder.

He turned back to see Penny staring at him, genuine concern etched in her blue eyes. "Hey," she started, biting her lip and she tried to find the right words. "Are you gonna be okay?" The words felt strange leaving her lips, but she held them all the same, her eyes searching Sherman's own.

But Sherman just gave another fake smile and brushed away her hand. "Yeah." He mumbled softly. "I'll be fine. See you in class." He turned away, placing the books in his locker one by one, careful not to meet her eyes.

Penny looked like she wanted to say something more, but before she could, the five minute warning tone sounded it the hallway. Giving Sherman one last look, Penny sighed and walked off to her class.

Sherman peeked out from behind the locker door, watching her go. When she'd turned the corner, he groaned quietly to himself, his cheek pressed against the cold metal. He knew Penny was only trying to help, but he just needed to be alone right now. His heart felt heavy in his chest as he piled in the last textbook on the stack. But before he could close the locker door, he heard a wheezy squeak.

Sherman looked down to see the dog toy under his foot, the goofy smile on its face staring up at him innocently. Sherman glared down at it, growling under his breath, the ache in his heart turning to anger. Heat rose to his face as he scooped up the accursed thing and threw it into his locker with all his might. The bone bounced off the metal with another squeak, that horrible rubber face still smiling out at him. Sherman slammed the locker door shut, hiding the face from view. Not that he could ever erase it from his mind.

The redhead breathed heavily as he felt the sudden rage subside, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. Sliding down the cool metal to the floor, Sherman drew his knees up to his chest. He wiped at his eyes furiously, knocking his glasses askew.

He'd always been picked on in elementary school. Whether it was because he couldn't shut up in class, because he was klutzy, or even because of his father. It had gotten much better after Penny became his friend and Karl and Mason had always been there for him. But still, all through third, fourth, and fifth grade Sherman never could get past the taunting calls of "dog boy," "teacher's pet," and "freak." He'd just hoped middle school would be different somehow. New school, new reputation, a fresh start. He guessed he'd been wrong.

"But why should it bother him so much? Yes, his father was a dog, but hadn't he declared in front of countless historical figures and the entire NYPD that he was unashamed to be called one himself? Hadn't he claimed that there was nothing wrong about being like Mr. Peabody?

Was he ashamed of his own father?

Sherman closed off his mind to the thought, truly scared when he couldn't find an answer…

* * *

***Hides face in hands* I'm so sorry to end it like that, but I really didn't want to end this on a happy resolution. **

**I imagine middle school was worst time for Sherman bullying-wise, as it is for most children. At eleven years old, he's currently going through a time when most children begin to really question their values. So I wanted to end the drabble like Sherman's current emotions, confused and sad. :(**

**Don't worry though. I always pictured High school being a much better time for him. ^^**

**Also, what do you guys think of Sherman and Penny's relationship? Believable enough? She's really hard to write for...**

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**Hope you liked the sad drabbles. Don't worry, the humorous/fluffy drabbles are coming up next! ;D**


	6. Tumblr Drabbles Part 2

**Hello again Warpers! **

**This is Part 2 of my Tumblr drabbles. These drabbles are much more humorous and cute than the previous chapter. Hope you like them!**

**Disclaimer: Peabs and Sherman will never be mine. *sigh***

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**Ok, this needs context: On Tumblr the MPAS fandom has a genderbent version of Sherman (we call her Sherrie). Anyway, I was asked to do a quick drabble of an older Sherrie and Mr. Peabody. This is the result:**

**PMS-(Sherrie & Peabody)**

* * *

Sherrie groaned, flopping down on the couch in a huff. "My life is over! I am never showing my face in public again!"

Peabody rolled his eyes as he busied himself with his paperwork at the dining room table. "Sherrie please, you're being most irrational about this."

"Irrational?!" Sherrie repeated, propping her head on her arms as she leaned over the back of the couch to face her father. "You call tripping over my feet for the bazillionth time and knocking my lunch onto Matt Harrison—the cutest, most popular guy in school—irrational?!" She groaned again at the memory, knocking her glasses askew as she ran a hand down her face.

"Yes I do," the dog replied simply, unfazed by his daughter's outburst as he stacked the papers neatly into organized piles. "I believe you are making, to quote the immortal words of Mr. Shakespeare, "much ado about nothing."

"What is done can't be undone!" Sherrie quoted back in retort, not even bothering to look up. "You should have seen how everyone was laughing at me! I'm ruined! How can I ever go back to that school?!"

Peabody couldn't help but chuckle at Sherrie's hyperbole. "Such melodrama. I'm sure everything will be forgotten by tomorrow. You'll see," He tried to reassure her.

Sherrie just responded by pressing her face into one of the couch cushions. Peabody winced as he heard her muffled screams leaking out from the black leather.

As soon as she was finished the dog uncovered his ears and stood up in his chair, peering over the back of the couch to look at his daughter. "Really Sherrie this is most unlike you. I would expect such an over the top reaction from your friend Mr. Peterson, but you…" He stared down at the teenager in concern

"Unless…"

His ears perked as a sudden, very uncomfortable thought occurred to him. He peered down at her from behind his spectacles. "It isn't that um…" He fiddled with his bow tie as he searched for the correct phrase, "…'time of the month' for you is it?"

The silence that followed was so tangible that Peabody could almost feel it pressing in on him.

It took less than a second for Sherrie's face to turn as bright red as her hair. "MR. PEABODY!" She cried in embarrassment, using one of the couch cushions to hide her blushing face. She honestly hadn't thought she could be more mortified than she had been a few moments ago. Leave it to her father to prove her wrong.

"Because that's quite alright." Peabody fumbled nervously, his own blush creeping through his white fur. "It's perfectly natural for a girl your age to be going through this sort of thing. In fact, it's a fascinating aspect of a woman's development. Nothing to be ashamed of…" he rambled.

"Oh my gosh Mr. Peabody! PLEASE JUST STOP!" Sherrie's begged, not knowing how much more awkwardness she could take.

But the genius was only digging his hole deeper.

"If there's anything I could get for you, like some tampons, ibuprofen, or a hot water bottle-"

"DAD!"

* * *

**Stressed-(Peabody & Sherman)**

"_Waziri Behrman kuwahakikishia, kuwa kutiwa saini kwenye mkataba huu ni kwa maslahi ya Afrika Kusini ya bunge bora..."_ (I assure you Minister Behrman, that signing onto this treaty is in the South African parliament's best interests.)

Peabody spoke in his best Swahili as he simultaneously chopped up a handful of shallots and tossed them expertly into a double boiler filled with egg yolks.

"_Ndiyo, mimi Kutambua itakuwa kidogo ya kunyoosha kuwashawishi rais. Lakini nina chanya kwamba kama wewe ni uwezo wa kuwashawishi Wengi wa vyama vya siasa kutia saini rais kufuata …"_ (I realize it will be a bit of a stretch to convince the president. But I'm positive that if you're able to convince the majority of the political parties to sign the president will follow…)

Phone held precariously between his head and shoulder, Peabody used his now free hand to turn the knob on the stove, coaxing the flames high for a nice boil.

That evening Mr. Peabody had received an urgent phone call from the United Nations. For weeks now he'd been working closely with the organization to produce a new proposal towards world peace. Unfortunately at the last moment the South African representatives had withdrawn their promise of support. Apparently one of the President's advisors had effectively changed his mind. Counting on South Africa's vote when they proposed the idea to the General Assembly, the UN had asked if Peabody would step in and convince the foreign minister to reconsider.

Naturally, Peabody had agreed. However, he was also having the Governor of New York and his wife over for dinner that night. The politician wanted Peabody's advice on a few of his new policies. A master of wining and dining, Peabody was preparing a masterful spread of tomato artichoke gazpacho, tartan sashimi, and a delectable vanilla soufflé for dessert.

AND he'd also agreed to do some freelance consulting for General Motors on their latest car design. The company wanted his expert opinion on how the aerodynamics could be improved. The blueprints were currently spread out on the opposite counter. Every so often, Peabody would look them over and make a few notation where he saw fit.

Needless to say, the genius found himself more frazzled than usual tonight

Mr. Peabody feared that he'd fallen victim to his own hubris in agreeing to do so many things. But he was certain he could make ends meet. He was a genius after all…

It took him a moment to realize the minister had already answered and way expecting a response back.

" _Msamaha? Ndiyo bila shaka! Tayari tumekuwa kupokea msaada Kenya. Walikuwa ya furaha ya kushiriki kwenye."_ (Pardon? Oh yes of course! We've already received Kenya's support. They were more than happy to participate.)

"Hi Mr. Peabody!" the dog's ears perked at the sound of his son's voice. He turned to see Sherman pushing open the kitchen door, a notebook tucked under his arm.

Placing a hand over the speaker of the phone, Peabody grinned at the boy out of the corner of his eye. "Ah Sherman, Perfect timing!" As he talked the beagle was whisking the sashimi's black truffle sauce properly to emulsify it. "Would you please be a good boy and set the table for me? We're having some very important guests over tonight."

Sherman stopped in his track to stare at his father in confusion. "Huh? But aren't you supposed to be driving me to my robotics club meeting tonight?"

Peabody nearly dropped the phone is shock. "What!" he exclaimed. "That's ridiculous. Your robotics club meetings are on Wednesday nights."

Sherman groaned, his hands flopping to his sides. "Mr. Peabody! I told you last week! Mr. Larson was at a teacher's conference yesterday so he moved the meeting to tonight!

That's when Peabody heard the very loud and insistent voice of the South African minister in his ear. The dog held up a paw to his now very irked son, plastering a fake smile to his face before responding.

"_Oh! Mimi kuomba msamaha waziri. Ndiyo mimi bado niko hapa. Ndiyo, mimi najua uko busy sana mtu. Mimi aliahidi pendekezo ni pamoja na thamani ya muda wako."_ (Oh! I apologize minister. Yes I'm still here. Yes I know you're a very busy man. I promise the proposal is well worth your time.) Peabody reassured. He then covered up the phone once more to turn back his son.

"Now Sherman. I think I would have remembered if you'd told me that…" But he trailed off as a scowling Sherman pointed to the calendar hanging on the wall. Peabody's heart sank as he read the note he'd left for himself on today's date. "Sherman's robotics club moved to Fri," it read in his usual impeccable penmanship.

"Oh dear…"

It was at that moment the egg yolk had chosen to start boiling over, the red, hot liquid spilling over onto the stove. In a mad dash, Peabody just barely managed to move the double boiler away from the flames before the contents spilled into the gazpacho on the counter.

"Mr. Peabody!" Sherman tugged impatiently at his father's apron. "We gotta go! I promised Mason and Karl that I would bring the blueprints to make our latest prototype!" He held up his notebook for emphasis.

"Sherman please," Peabody waved the boy off, holding a hand to his now aching head. "Just give me a moment to think about this and- _Ndiyo Waziri. Mimi kutoa mawazo yangu full. Kwamba inaonekana kama hoja nzuri sana. Mimi nina uhakika rais itakuwa iliyopokelewa hiyo."_ (Yes Minister. I am giving you my full attention. That sounds like a very reasonable argument. I'm sure the president would be receptive to it.) Peabody switched from English to Swahili in a matter of minutes, trying desperately to carry on his conversation.

Out of the corner of his eye, the dog could see the black truffle sauce had been pushed dangerously close to the GM blueprints. Warning bells sounded in Peabody's mind, but he still needed to stir butter into the béarnaise sauce before it over boiled.

Meanwhile Sherman, too preoccupied by his own dilemma to notice his father's stress, was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet "Oh come on!" He moaned. "The guys are counting on me to be there! Please! It won't take all that long to drive there. And I promise that-"

But Mr. Peabody cut him off with a stern look. _"Tafadhali! kwa upendo wa yote ambayo ni mema na heshima, tafadhali kuwa na utulivu!"_ (Please! for the love of all that is good and decent, BE QUIET!)

It wasn't until the beagle noticed the bewildered look his son was shooting him that Mr. Peabody realized that he hadn't been speaking English.

Now he had an enraged foreign minister cursing him out in Swahili_. "Hapana! Waziri Behrman sikuwa na maana ya wewe! tafadhali! Kama unaweza tu-!"_ (No! Minister Behrman I didn't mean you! Please! If you could just-!) But the phone line went dead before he could say anything more.

Unfortunately, at that very same moment, the bowl of black truffle sauce had chosen to lose its precarious balance and began to spill onto the blueprints.

Peabody dove to salvage what was left of the important papers. However, in his haste he hadn't time to consider how close that would put his tail to the open flame of the stove.

"YE-OUCH!" the canine cried in pain as he wrenched his now singed tail away from the flames, teetering dangerously backwards.

"Mr. Peabody!" Sherman cried in distress, positioning himself under the failing dog.

Finally giving into gravity's wishes, Peabody feel backwards into his son's arms, both of them landing in a heap on the ground. His sudden tumble had also knocked loose the open carton of eggs he'd brought out to make the soufflé, sending them flying into the air…

SPLAT!

… and right unto Mr. Peabody's head.

A moment of silence passed at both of them sat up and looked around at the state of their kitchen. There were cracked eggs scattered all over the floor, mingling with the spilled truffle sauce and whatever remained of the now ruined GM car blueprints. And there sat Mr. Peabody, his white tail blacked at the tip, egg yolk covering his glasses and dripping off the end off his snout.

Both father and son took one look at each other before bursting out laughing. Mr. Peabody found himself simply unable to cope in any other way. The two spent a good three minutes in hysterics on the floor in the midst of their created chaos.

"I'm s-s-sorry Mr. Peabody," Sherman guffawed, clutching his sides. "B-b-but ya just look so funny!"

"No it's quite alright Sherman, Peabody laughed in reply as he began to pick himself off the floor. "I suppose it serves me right for thinking I could take on so much at once." While he was a genius, Mr. Peabody had to acknowledge that he was hardly immune to human—or canine—error. "Now let's get you to that robotics club meeting."

Sherman grinned as he picked himself up as well. "Really? I can go?"

The dog nodded, making his way to the stove to turn it off. "Of course you may. If we hurry I can drop you off and be back before the Governor even arrives. You'll just have to get a ride home with one of your friends."

"Yes!" Sherman punched the air in victory. The boy grabbed his notebook off the countertop and scrambled towards the door, careful not to trip in the mess on the floor. "Oh!" He paused to look his father up and down. "But… Um… maybe you should clean up before we go."

Peabody chuckled good naturedly as he stared down at himself. The sticky yellow yolk was now staining his white fur. "Yes I believe that would be for the best." Then, suddenly, a playful smile came to his face "Sherman?" he prompted wittily as he wiped the yolk from his glasses. "I suppose I've really got egg on my face now haven't I?"

The red head giggled for a moment before his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't get it…"

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**So those are the more humorous pieces. What did you think? Love, hate, meh? Please shoot me a review! I love getting your guys' input!**


	7. Tumblr Drabbles Part 3

**Greetings and Salutations Warpers! **

**This is Part 3 of my Tumblr drabbles. I only had one left, but I am particularly proud of this one, so I thought I'd let it have a chapter of its own!**

**Hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: Mr. Peabody and Sherman continue to elude my grasp. I'll get you my doggy, and your little boy too! XD**

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**Injured-(Peabody & Sherman)**

"Now hold still Sherman. This is going to sting a little."

Sherman whimpered softly as his father swabbed the large scrap on his knee with disinfectant. However, in spite of the pain the boy held perfectly still as Mr. Peabody wrapped a large band aid around the wound.

"There we are." reassured the beagle, wiping a tear from Sherman's cheek. "All better now!" He closed the portable first aid kit with a snap, tucking it back into the bag at his shoulder.

"T-t-thanks Mr. Peabody," Sherman sniffed, smudging his face with dirt as he rubbed at his red rimmed eyes.

With dirt all over his body and numerous cuts and scrapes on his hands, arms, and legs, the little redhead looked like he'd just had a fight with the ground and lost. Which is pretty much what had just happened.

Beside the two Sherman's brand new bicycle lay on the ground in a heap, exactly where he'd crashed it just a few moments ago…

Sherman had been ecstatic when Mr. Peabody had presented him with the bike for his seventh birthday. The boy had spent the better half of at least twenty minutes oohing and ahhing over the shiney red handlebars, freshly inflated tires, and well oiled gears. The other half he'd spent hugging his father, lifting the dog nearly a foot off the ground in his enthusiasm.

"But where are the training wheels?" He'd finally asked, examining the back of the bike quizzically.

Fully expecting this question, Peabody had merely chuckled. "You're not going to need them anymore Sherman. I'm going to teach you to ride your bicycle without them."

Needless to say Sherman was enthralled at the prospect. He'd begged his father to take him as soon as possible, but unfortunately he'd had to wait a week before Mr. Peabody's busy schedule cleared up and they were able to go to the park.

All afternoon Peabody had spent coaching his son how to properly ride his new bike, keeping a paw the seat the help Sherman keep his balance.

As usual, his boy took to learning like a fish in water, all too eager to implement all that Mr. Peabody was teaching him. In spite of Sherman's lack of coordination, the redhead was already confident enough the peddle a feet feet on his own, wobbling slightly, but still staying upright.

Then, it had happened. Peabody had been running beside his son when Sherman started peddling harder, a smile breaking out on his face as he grew more confident. He soon broke away from Peabody's steadying arm impatiently, shooting forwards as fast as he could, enjoying the cool wind as it whipped past his face.

Much to Peabody's dismay, Sherman's moment of victory hadn't lasted long. Unfortunately, the boy still hadn't quite mastered the art of stopping yet.

As soon as he'd begun to loose momentum, Sherman started to panic, swaying dangerously to and fro.

Seeing the impending disaster, Peabody had rushed forwards, but he couldn't get there in time.

Swerving violently to the left in a blind attempt to stop, Sherman had flown right over the handlebars an plummeted head-long into the dirt.

The beagle had been at Sherman's side in seconds. After thoroughly checking his boy up and down, Mr. Peabody was relieved to discover no serious injuries. No, just cuts, scrapes, and some wounded pride.

A now very red-faced Sherman took the helmet off his head, his hair sticking to his sweaty face. "I um… I don't think I'm much of bike rider Mr. Peabody." He mumbled sadly, fiddling with the helmet straps. "Maybe you should just put the training wheels back on…"

But Peabody wouldn't hear any of it. "Sherman that's nonsense! You were performing perfectly well just a few moments ago," the beagle coaxed, placing a reassuring paw on the boy's shoulder.

"Well yeah… but so what?" The seven year-old exclaimed, gesturing emphatically at the downed bicycle. "I crashed!"

Sherman couldn't believe the smile that was on his father's face. Hadn't Mr. Peabody hear what he just said?

"Yes you crashed," Peabody agreed fairly, "but that's just how you learn."

At Sherman's look of utter bewilderment, Peabody elaborated…

"Sherman, Do you think Mr. Einstein hit upon e equals mc squared the first try? Do you think the Wright brother's invented the first working airplane on their first attempt?" He ruffled the the boy's messy hair as he continued. "You saw all the blueprints and scrapped prototypes in their barn when we visited last month. It took them countless failures to finally hit upon their goal!"

Sherman's brow furrowed as he mulled over his father's words. "So you're saying if I get back on that bike I'm just gonna crash again?"

Peabody couldn't help but laugh at the boy's reasoning. "It's quite probable," he replied honestly.

The redhead's nose wrinkled in befuddlement. "But then why would I want to do it in the first place? It sounds kinda silly to do something knowing I'm just gonna fail at it." His brown eyes stared up at Peabody questioningly.

But Peabody was still smiling, completely unfazed by Sherman's doubt. He'd been meaning to teach his son this lesson for a while and this incident had provided him the perfect opportunity.

"Because, eventually you aren't going to crash." Peabody answered, his hand still absently rubbing Sherman's shoulder. "Any great inventor knows that failure paves the road to success. With each mistake you're going to learn a little more until you'll be able to ride that bicycle with ease."

The beagle's heart soared as he saw comprehension dawning in Sherman's eyes. Smart as a whip his boy was!

"So…" Sherman wiped his sweaty hands on his now filthy white shirt. "D'ya think… If I just worked hard enough, I could do it?"

Peabody beamed down at him. "I see absolutely no reason why you couldn't."

Sherman smiled back. Then, quick as a flash, the boy scrambled back to his feet, a glint of determination in his eyes.

Peabody's eyes followed Sherman in surprise as he watched his son rush to pick his bicycle off the ground. "Hold on a minute?" He asked in surprise. "You want to try again now?" He looked at his boy's battered form in concern. "Shouldn't we go home and get you cleaned up first?" He hadn't really meant for his son to take him quite so literally.

But Sherman merely threw his concerned father a lopsided grin and his placed the helmet back over his messy hair. "Well, I figure if I gotta keep failing, might as well start now so I can learn even faster!" And with that, he clambering right back on the bike and took off, peddling vigorously on the park sidewalk.

For a moment, Peabody considered stopping him, but he ultimately decided against it. Boys would be boys he supposed.

Unfortunately, Sherman only managed to get about as far as twelve feet before…

*CRASH, BANG, KER-THUNK*

"I'm okay!"

Mr. Peabody winced. They were going to need ALOT more band aids…

* * *

**And that's all I have so far. I've still got two drabbles left in my Tumblr inbox that I still need to get to. But I will eventually…**

**I'd also like thank everyone who has sent me both wonderful reviews and awesome ideas! I'm really sorry if I haven't gotten to them yet, but I'm afraid I'm still in school and finals are terrible right now. Once summer comes I'll be able to focus on my writing more. Thank you all for your patience, you guys are awesome readers!**

**Warmest regards,**

**Katie**

**P.S.-Thanks for putting up with all these drabbles. I'm sorry if they were sort of an abrupt departure from my usual one-shots. This was just an experiment, a test of my writing skills that I really wanted to try out. After all, like I've stated before, this story is pretty much a dumping bin for anything I write MPAS related that doesn't have a coherent, ongoing plot. Don't worry, I'll be sure to publish more... polished chapters in the coming weeks.**


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